


Apples

by PoesAd_LiB



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Drugs, Fluff, Frerard, M/M, cynical frank, emotional stuntment, frank - Freeform, gerard - Freeform, highschool frerard, mysterious gerard, outcasts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-14 08:21:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 27,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2184609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoesAd_LiB/pseuds/PoesAd_LiB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Highschool Frerard: Frank is not normal, Gerard is something else.<br/>Excerpt: "Thanks." He says, a slow, sly smile stretching his lips as he hands me my lighter back</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Apples

**Author's Note:**

> finally had 'time' to post my chapter fic on here

Silence. That's all that's heard...of course, that's only if it's actually something one can physically hear. The room is cold. I'm starting to get goosebumps. Everything is still, everything feels empty. Silence, cold, and stillness, Oh how frightening. Yet, I feel (happily) numb. I look at the clock...wait, the second hand isn't moving. Why? I sigh, or at least I think I do, for I don't feel nor hear any breath emit from my lips. Bored...oh god, I am so bored. I look at the cold, hard desk in front of me. -Wait, desk? Where am I again?  
-"Mr. Iero! I said: PAY ATTENTION!"  
Ah, there. The silence is broken, cracked to pieces on the floor, I whip my head up towards the person who broke the sacred glass.  
Oh, now I remember where I am. I look at my history teacher with faux curiousity. I feel as if I had seeped back into the reality, like a stain of water on a flimsy paper towel, seeping through, slowly. Everything is a little bit hazy around the edges of my sight, of my mind. I feel a little bit put off, thrown of course like a car swerving through ice. Wait, I haven't stopped staring at my teacher, I hear giggling around me and I glance my eyes warily around the room to see my peers holding in their laughter of amusement, as my teacher keeps glaring at me, with her deathly eyes of radiation (ha). Are they laughing at her face or mine? I look back at my teacher. Oh shit! I don't think I've responded...  
"Yes?" I cough " I mean: Sorry."  
She stares at me with her dark beady eyes. I feel as if I am being analyzed..Shit! Can she tell? Does she know? I ceartainly hope not. I feel panic rise in me as she starts walking towards my desk. I feel myself gulp as she comes closer. Finally reaching my desk, she leans towards my desk, towards me, and hands me a white slip of paper. I stare at her as she makes her way towards the front of the class, towards her desk, and when she finally takes her seat I read the paper: **DETENTION** , it says, in big bold letters that foretell doom.I let relief flood through me like a warm shower, and smile smugly to myself, grateful that she had not noticed my state of being.  
"Iero!! You find this amusing!?" My teacher yells fuiriously. She swiftly gets up from her seat and rushes towards me, handing me yet, another paper this time reading: **Three weeks DETENTION** , this time I watch her as she gets back to her seat with a bewildered expression. I feel despair quelle through my stomach sinking like a stone at the bottom of a sea, and I thump my head on the desk in resignation. Well, shit.  
The bell rings and I rush out the door in anger. Bitch! I think as I make my way through the crowded hallways, rushed with fury. I get lost in the endless fields of bodies, catching whiffs of cheap cologne and too-sweet perfumes. I walk faster towards my destination, the conditioned air and pale green flourescent lights stinging my eyes. My breath increases as I walk nearer to the doors, I'm almost out, almost out. I finally make it out, pushing the blue metal doors open with excitement. I walk outside, against the school's dirty wall of bricks, and hide among a patch of trees and stairs on the side of the school.  
I lean against the brick walls, slowly sliding to the floor next to the corner of the stairs as I pull out my joint and lighter, looking around to make sure I'm alone. Just as I'm about to light my joy stick, I hear footsteps descending around the corner and I clutch my lighter to my chest protectively. I listen intently as the footsteps draw nearer, holding my breath to hear more: heavy footsteps, calm pacing, soft stomping, sound of leather scraping cement: boots. I let some tension leave my shoulders, knowing that the school's faculty and security don't wear boots. Still, I hide in my litte quiet, peaceful corner waiting, hoping the sound of footsteps retrieve, except my hope has seemed to fail me as I hear them near me. Before I have time to react, less much hide my things, the footsteps stop in my line of sight: revealing a pair of boot clad feet. I slowly raise my eyes up, turning my head as I stare at the person in front of me, my breath exhales in relief as I stare at a guy in a worn out leather jacket. The guy looks down at me with intense yet harmless golden hazel eyes.  
" Got a light?" He asks, his voice rough, smooth, like scraped velvet.  
I hand him my lighter wordlessly with out taking my eyes off him, staring at him warily, _curiously_ , as he lights his cigarette.  
"Thanks." He says, a slow, sly smile stretching his lips as he hands me my lighter back. " See you around." he states mysteriously, turning his back and heading back towards around the corner where he came from. I watch his figure descend for no more than three seconds, then quickly light my joint with pleasure. 


	2. Gerard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I feel like an airhead, a cheerful bloated balloon dancing in the sea of skies, tangling with the rays of the sun that paint the surface of endless blue.

The bell for my last class rings. I am startled out of my habitual reveries, by the high pitch shrill of the bell. I slowly get up, and even more leisurely start packing my things. Walking out of the classroom with an apathetic, lazy stride I gradually make my way to the bathroom, slow enough that it gives my gut time to contract in anger and possibly even anxiety as I think about my brooding detention hours. Entering the bathroom, I lock the main doors, walk to the last stall and roll a joint. Lighting it, I soon take a hit, giving my body time to rid itself of its nervous tension, I sigh as I feel the ties of my muscles gradually unravel until all my exsistence consists of loose limbs and relaxation. No mind, no conscience, no anxiety: I feel like an airhead, a cheerful bloated balloon dancing in the sea of skies, tangling with the rays of the sun that paint the surface of endless blue.  
By the time I manage to leave the bathroom, the hallways are empty and silent, like a white blank cave of nothing. _Oh god_ , I'm so numb. I walk around the hallways, sluggishly, looking for the classroom where detention is being held, trying to recall, trying to recall where it is, where it was, last time, when was last time? I stay still, scracthing at the inner walls of my skull to remember where the class room was, I look up, and start giggling. Convinient, I think as I walk into the classroom smiling like an idiot, giggling like a child, pure convinience. It's like fate, _ha_ if there were such a thing, why is it like that? Why does one try to find things and doesn't succeed until they stop? Then thing just appears out of nowhere, like it was waiting for one to stop. Maybe I'm just high, _ha_ , I chuckle as I make my way to the far end of the classroom, sitting at the last desk one the corner, maybe I'm just highhh. My mind is so fuzzy, this feeling, it's so hard to explain yet, so easy to understand, why is that? It feels like my brain is snuggled up against dozens of fuzzy cotton balls as it snoozes happily away, bathed in rich, warm sunlight that pulls at my brain's little heart strings, like a vacation in paradise, like serenity. Yes this, this is serenity.  
I willingly let my eyes close, not bothering to observe what other poor fuckers made it to detention, and fall asleep....  
 _I'm walking...there's fog everywhere. There's fog everywhere, thick like a smoldering, blanket that compresses my skin in uncomfortable ways. I can't see where I'm going but yet I continue to walk, to walk into the endless gray, having no control over my body's movements, no control over my own legs. I keep walking, unable to feel my legs, unable to feel my heart beat, incapable of sight, incapable of thought, cannot feel anything but the fog. As I walk farther into the black sea I notice a smudge of green up ahead, it's so blurry to concieve what it actually is, but it resembles an accident, like a smuge of bright green paint that doesn't fit amongst the dark, cold colors, in a painting. It looks out of place, alone amongst all that fog. Getting nearer, I soon realize that the green smudge is in fact, a tree, an ordinary apple tree. Yet as I get closer, about to touch it, I feel waves of fog wrap around my body, pulling me down with them, deep down, into the cold palpable gray that chokes my throat, and I allow myself to be drowned. Black, behind my eyelids all is black, debating wether or not I should open my eyes or let the dark eat them away, I am left with the knowledge that I'm laying on a cold, hard surface. Uncomfortable, I open my eyes, better to look where I am. Opening my eyes, I find myself staring at the endless blue of a sky, relief drips into me and I let myself smile, no fog, no dark. I hear the crash of waves, and the ground I am laying is of wood, shiny and scarred. I'm in a boat, listening to the sound of seagulls laughing I gradually pick myself up from the ground. I walk around, inspecting...and as I walk to the edge of the boat I am filled with astonishment, and fright? The sea is blood red, but it isn't a sea because all it is, is sand. Hot, red sand that pushes the boat into motion, how? I feel sick, not knowing why, and I run to the middle of the boat, why does it bother me so much? I notice a presence behind me, and it's a dark figure conducting the ship, I walk closer: pale skin, hazel eyes, leather jacket. I gasp, my eyes wide from shock for some reason unbeknowst to me. He smirks at me smugly, and says " See you around."_  
My eyes flash open in panic, I feel so unsettled, violated in fact, I look around the class and notice every one is gone, almost everyone, I see a figure from my peripheal vision, I turn to look, and groan in despair.  
"It's _you_." I accuse, he stares at me with his eyes, making my skin crawl. I can't believe I just said that.  
"Were you staring at me while I slept?" I snap out, shit, I wasn't thinking, that sounds stupid, oh god, stop. He continues to look at me, and once again, I feel very violated.  
"No. Actually, I was going to wake you up." He replies, that rough velvet voice, smooth and composed, doing nothing to calm my nerves, which are even greater now that I feel like an ass.  
"Oh..." Is my intellegent reply, then "Sorry." I say in a sheepish voice,he smiles, one side of his lip curving higher than the other and casually replies, " My name's Gerard."  
"Ok.." I reply akwardly not trusting myself with saying any other words.  
"Just in case you were wondering, which I know you were." He deadpans, air rushes out of my lungs and I panic, fuck not good, this is quite intimidating.  
I cough awkwardly and avert my gaze towards the door, hoping to flee, but that would be idiotic, why am I nervous? This guy is so fucking creepy. " I'm Frank.." I say, seeing as there's not much choice I have now. I start to pack my things and notice this guy, _Gerard_ , walking out towards the door, wondering why he waited, -was that waiting?- I gradually make my way towards the exit. When I leave the class room he is right outside, waiting, for me? I smile at him awkwardly but seeing as the look on his face, I can tell it looked more like a grimace more than anything. I walk in a slow pace, trying to prove that I'm calm and not so nervous at all. He walks next to me, stretching his -not so- long legs in an eloquent stride, making me feel very, weird, like shit to put it in words. When I -we- walk out of the school he pulls out a box of cigarettes and takes one out for himself, he then looks at me and offers, I take it, of course I do it's free.  
"Got a light?" He asks. Oh, _oh_ , I see he doesn't have one, no wonder he waited, funny, that guy. I nod my head, handing him the lighter after I've finished lighting my cig. I unintentionally stare at him lighting his cig, buring the tip, and hollowing his cheeks to keep the heat growing, making his cheekbones protrude as the cherry glows with new life. He blows out, his lips a circle as smoke comes out, fogging his face with grey smog for a mere second. He looks dangerous, I note. Then he hands me my lighter and smiles at me, the trace of danger gone but still lurking at the edges of my mind. I cough again.  
" So, you never carry a lighter around then?" I ask, genuinely curious. He huffs out a laugh, smoke curling from his lips.  
" I do. I just lose them, the ones I buy are small, hard to keep track of where I put them." He smiles.  
" Maybe you just have a bad memory, or maybe you just need to be tidy." I reply, great just sound like a goddamned granny Frank. He laughs again, eyes bright with life, I catch myself staring again, shit.  
"Maybe" He muses, "Then again, I do enjoy watching which strangers let me bum a light. Call it a social experiment if you will."  
I chuckle amused, " Well then I hope I didn't dissapoint."  
"You didn't." He replies, smiling. He throws his shrunken cig to the ground and stomps it with his foot, killing the light.  
" See you around, Frank." He says, smirking, then he walks down the school's steps, away from me, towards salvation, and I am left staring at his descending figure.  
I finish my cig, and make my way towards home. Eery, the way he said it this time, with my name, it makes it sound very eery, promising even. I get chills. When I make it home, all I can think about are the goosebumps gracing my flesh. And at night, when I'm trying to beckon sleep, I hear the echos of his voice saying my name with a leering promise. And in my slumber, I dream about his name, about how it makes me feel like im in rooting danger, and it resonates on the walls of my mind with a brooding beat, waiting, _promising_ something deadly. _Gerard_.  



	3. Infamous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once the high wears off, I feel like shit

One strike, that's all that ran through my mind. One strike, it was bitter and it stung like salt on ice, and it shouldn't have. It shouldn't have singed like it's still burning now. It shouldn't have stung, I shouldn't have failed, I was in my comfort zone, I was in my haven, I was where I felt I belonged. Yet, those words: One strike, proved me otherwise. They proved to me that no, I was no way in comfort, it wasn't my haven, and no, I most certainly did not belong. But most importantly, those words proved to me that I'm not even close to a grain of salt of good as I thought I was. I believe that was and is what hurt most: feeling unskillful of what I thought I did best. Yet, beyond all the hurt, I can only feel angry. Vigorous..pulsating..straining.. _anger_.   
  
Those damning, condescending words resonate repeatedly against the hallways of my skull. Leering, taunting, boiling my nerves, enraging me, making me _sick_. My vision clouds with tainted red fog, and my eyes sting, and I am unable to see. All I can see, all I can feel, is the harsh, scathing scab of red, that's been picked at over and over and over, pronoucing it permanent. Blood furiously pounds through my veins, making my head throb violently, I feel the heat of my blood rise under my cheeks and around my neck. I feel sick, I want to throw up, I am infuriated, I want to cause destruction. Instead, I ditch my fourth period, and storm of towards the bathrooms. I lock myself in the last stall, in need of a release, in need of a distraction, in need of an _allievator_.   
  
I light up my last joint, with shaking hands and stabs of future inevitable regret.Then, I let the weed do its job. And I just let myself forget. With and only with the drug, is when I allow myself to forget and I do: I forget about the reprimands sent to me by my guitar instructor, I forget about my broken guitar strings, and I forget about the humiliation caused by dissapointment in myself. And above all, I forget about my instructors cold, stern voice, and cold, displeased frown, that let me know that I have _failed_.   
  
Then I black out.........or I think I did, can't be sure though, I must have forgotten.   
  
Once the high wears off, I feel like shit. I feel worn out like a flat tire caused by never ending friction, on second thought I feel like the shitiest car tire known to every automobile in the world. Then again there is no difference....... I check the time on my phone and realize with much indifference, that I have been in the bathroom for an hour, and that I would be hallfway through my fifth period if I were to have gone to my fourth class to begin with. I slowly pick myself -physically and morally- up from the floor and gather my things. Once I exit the last stall I hear a noise that I have not noticed before and stop in my tracks, with shock and possibly fear, and I listen closely. It's a quiet yet screeching, constant, scratching noise that follows an unmistakeable pattern of slow motions, with intervals of silence in between, like half rests on sheets of music. The sound becomes recognizable in the depths of my mind, and I realize it is the sound of metal scraping against metal. For some reason unbeknowst to me I feel irrational fear rise in my stomach, and my heart beat quickening, yet my legs seem to involuntarily move forward without my permission, as if there was nothing that could be lurking around the corner.   
  
When I make it around the corner, I see a familliar figure assembled with a leather jacket and black boots, and my fear dissipates like the releaved sigh that emitted from my lips.   
"Holy fuck, you scared the shit outta me." I exclaim, then " Wait, how long have you been here?" I ask  
The figure, -or more precisely- Gerard, stops the noise, which was coming from his hands scraping on the counter with a razor knife, by ceasing his motions, and slowly turns his head to adress me.   
" I should be asking you the same, I didn't even know anyone was here." He replies with an amused smirk curling his lips.   
"Fair enough: an hour or so." I give in, genuinely curious. I seem to find this guy every where I go, eliminating the idea that he might me following me. He looks at me in contained suprised, and I watch him close his razor knife and gently place it inside his jackets' left pocket. I don't know why but I noticed it was left and wondered why left? I find it ridiculous why I didn't even question myself why he had a knife in the first place. But now, that question seems to linger in my thoughts.   
"About thirty...fourty minutes." His unceartain reply breaks through my thoughts, and I watch intently as his nose scrunches up in order to think of the exact time. I smile to myself. So then I _must_ have blacked out if I didn't hear him coming inside the bathroom.   
I wonder what he was doing here, then I think about the noises he was making, and I walk toward the counter to investigate it. I look down only to see Danzig staring up at me, I chuckle, of course this guy would ditch class to scrape a drawing of Danzig on a bathroom sink. Of course. I'm full of amusement as I look up to smile back at him.  
"You like?" He asks chuckling.   
"Yes, Danzig man..." I give him a lazy smile, giggling. He smiles back at me lopsided and I notice that we are closer than we were before. I'm not sure who got nearer, but from this distance I can count each individual eyelash of his, I feel irked. He leans his face towards mine, then bends down a bit, and sniffs at my shoulder.   
"You smell rank man." He exclaims, extending himself to his full height and backing up two steps to lean against the counter. "How much dope did you smoke?" He asks.   
"Just finished the last of it, wasn't much." I give him a sad look  
"I could get you some..." He gives me a serious look  
"For how much?" I ask, feeling elevated  
"Think of it as a recompensation for the lights."  
"Ok" I reply. I feel unsure, suspicious.   
"You look like shit, wanna ditch?" He asks, hopefull.   
"Nah man, I gotta get over with school, this far ahead, might aswell stay." I say, looking for an excuse, it doesn't make me feel as bad as it should, after all, I barely know this guy, and he is creepy.   
"It's cool." He says, not looking one bit unfaltered. Good.   
Together we make our way out of the bathroom, him holding the door open for me, and before we part our ways, he pats my shoulder and leaves with his infamous, "See you around."   
  
As I make my way through the hallways to my fifth period I think about his knife, about his left pocket, about his offer. And most of all, I think about his ridiculously long eyelashes, and the warm touch of his hand, lingering on my shoulder.   
  
What a creepy fucker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify, one strike means one warning it's a saying used here pertaining to baseball that the batter gets three strikes till he has to get out. It's not a saying commonly used here however it is used to warn children in a way. So that's why Frank is all like freaking out


	4. Question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Any conversation with Ray is worth remembering

I think about the ancient scriptures written about greek gods. I think about how they are all these different made up characters sharing same characteristics yet, being so different from each other. I think about the patterns of their actions that make them differ from each other and about how, if the patterns were changed, re-written in a different format, and sequence, if they would still be the same gods the greeks would worship. I dwell on mankinds need to create something, holy, something inconcquerable, in order to drown in their own devotion and faith, in it. They made gods with these supernatural, super human, abilities that have human thoughts, human ideas, and human personalities, and I realize that they were just stories that helped them fantasize, and learn how to be better, greater, like the gods. They are all just stories, amongst many more, that helped people escape reality, and live beyond it's petty expectations. Yet, even today these debates go on about gods, or god, and they do not even pertain on the idea of the stories, people only argue whether they exsist or not. One cannot say they or he is real, one cannot say that they or he aren't. Because we'll never know, there is no need for that useless knowledge, but I do very much like the exsistant and non-exsistant ideas. Because in the end, they truly do not matter, at least not to me. It never really matters if these stories are real, or made up, because either way they bring an escape, they help me explore the subconcious jungle of my mind. I like the triumphs and falls of these written greek gods, I've fansinated of this impossibility ever since I learned about them, they are just a fantasy.  
  
Sometimes I catch myself wishing for something more, for something less real. I have pondered over the human mind some many times, their behaviour, actions, ideas, thoughts, personality. And I know how they are, how most are, all very, very stupid. They are mean, cruel and sometimes very hateful. That's why I often find myself favouring people long gone dead or unexsistant. Like Martin from Volatire's Candide, most cynical character I have read of, I am often very cynical, but I still hold on to that small, and I do mean small, twig of hope, weak and breakable. My favorite philospher is Friederich Nietchez, who held on to that small hope that one day humans would evolve into these remarkable beings, with unfathomable intellegence and stregnth, and who mused many anarchist ideas. Except, I do not see that view of the future world, I have a feeling that I shall be surrounded by stupidity for the rest of my life. And people will continue to rot along with the leaders that do them all injustice, equally. That's why I let myself float. I do not wish to live here any more. I do not want to live in a world where the only thing exceeding the treacherous land is one's imagination. I can accept reality, but I will continue to live in fantasy. Because I will never settle for less.   
  
Being seventeen, and having a head full of thoughts, a system full of weed, and classes full of stupidity, I often let myself get lost in my repetetive thoughts. And when I leave my head to it's thoughts, and jump back into the world with few grace, I feel like I belong somewhere far from this place.  
  
I look at my teacher sitting on her desk, and sneakily, slide my hand into my left jean pocket to retrieve my phone. I sigh in dissapointment when I note that there is twenty minutes left for this class, and send a text to my friend, claiming my never ending boredom. I smile to myself as I get a reply reminding me of our plans. It feels great to have plans on a friday. I start to grow impatient. My fingers begin to tap on the desk steadily, the tapping then gradually transforms into a fast, hectic drumming that annoys my peers. My right leg starts jiggling and my eyes dance around the classroom. My eyes leap on the clock to my classmates. And I soon find myself analyzing each one of them, all very stupid. I look at the pretty blonde across from me, looking very hot with her pouty little mouth shut, the silence suits her, makes her look seemingly more attractive. Then she opens her mouth towards her friend, and the appeal is gone, replaced by stupid, from all the idiocidy spouting from her mouth, she is very annoying. I look at a dude from across the room, handsome in today's standars, very silent, very ordinary, he seemed like an exceptionally bright kid, that is, but when I saw him out of class one day, one would not believe how fake this guy was, he decieves himself, makes others believe he belongs, he follows the crowd like a lost sheep. He disgusts me. I look at all my calssmates, all stupid, all hypocrites, all fake, unoriginal, mean, repulsive.   
  
I stop my train of thoughts, because I always seem to get a little too angry when I think about how dumb all my classmates are, and before I know it, the bell rings. I spring from my seat and walk fast towards the main doors of the school that promise salvation. I smile to myself as the cool, fresh air hugs my lungs, and as the sun's rays wind themselves around my body. I walk away from the school towards the destination where I planned to meet with my friend. As I near the bustop between our towns, I see his fluffy head of hair up ahead and wave excitedly at him and watch as he beams like a new born baby. I catch up and we arm hug, haven't seen each other in a long time, I am overwhelmed with joy at seeing my best friend.   
"Hey Frank!" He beams with much enthusiam.  
"Sup Ray?" I reply with a sly smile. We walk our way towards his house to drop off our things and soon enough we are out once again into the fresh day.   
"What happens when you ditch detention?" He asks, his curious eyes bright, and brows twisted in genuine worry.  
I contemplate about the answer not exactly sure what the consequences actually are and my mouth twists down a physical act caused by my confusion.   
"Im...not sure.." I muse, "I think maybe three more detentions or something like that..."  
"Fucking sucks man."  
"I know, but worth it, 'ts not like I have much to do anyways."   
"True that."   
"I finished my dope man." I whine as we walk around his town towards the destination we planned to invade.   
"I didn't, want some?"   
"Nah, some guy's gonna give me free green, it's cool, he's kinda creepy, but he seems cool..." I've no idea why I brought Gerard up, I guess it's the new topic deal.   
"That's weird.." He chuckles "What's his name?" He asks as an afterthought.  
"Gerard" I reply briskly.   
  
Ray walks infront of me in an excited rush and I chuckle to myself knowing the cause of his excitement, soon enough he is holding the door open open for me, as I enter with the breeze, a gush of wind makes his hair bob comically. I giggle. We walk around the dim lighted record store and venture the world of music. The polished, wooden floorboards of the store give away the years of its bussiness, with scratched corners, scuff marks and crack, splintered wood, we tread the ground gently, and with each step the floor creaks with a cry of fatigue. It's soothing, the age of this store and how it's visible to one if they would just take a simple look. The music playing is very soft and relaxing, most likely a mix tape due to the various artists being played: Led Zepplin, The Pixies, oh! and Smashing Pumpkins. Ray and I smile to each other like smug children and start singing along with the music being played. We seem to have made it to the far back corner of the store, and I am astounded as usual for not noticing, always becoming unaware of where I'm going when I think too much. We start to browse the metal and punk records displayed, some old and used, some eccentric, some new, and most of all, some antique, and now this, this is haven. Ray and I look through the music, talking excitedly, eloquently about it with more zeal than poets. The world outside us is gone, and we get lost in our own words, with chords of soft, sweet, guitar strings, that elope gracefully around the atmosphere we create. Music is pure, it should be. It is a soother, a destroyer, and a creator, it has no need for drugs, no need of mysterious aspects that confuse me like people do. I can understand it, and need it, like the impulse to breath, it keeps me alert and dreaming. It is god, my friend, and my exsistance. Muisic simply is, and it is everything to me.   
  
Our conversation gradually diminishes into silence, and the only thing that is heard is the music, and the sound of the records shuffling, and being flipped. But I am alert, of everything, I am alive like I always am when I am inside this store. I can smell the citrus wood polish, hear the sound of faint birds chirping outside the old walls, I can hear the winds laughing. I can see all the colors of the records illuminated by the dull golden yellow lights, all in different colors in shades, some birght, some dark, some neutral, and some different. I can smell the distinct smell of carboard on the records: fresh, musty, and a slight under smell that resembles those of old books, a smell presistant, yet dull, a smell strong, yet faint. And now as we make our way to the front to buy the records we chose, I hear the sound of the door opening, the wind greedily rushing in, and bells chiming with joy, welcoming the stranger who entered. I did not bother looking, I do not know what I would've done in effect if I knew who the person entering was, I don't even think there were anything I could do besides continuing my way to the counter. As we make it closer to the front, Ray and I make idle chat, idle but important. Any conversation with Ray is worth remembering. We are beat to the register by a tall figure, who I presume just entered the store seeing as his hair was messy due to the wind, and we wait in line for what seems like eight minutes.  
  
I listen halfway in on their conversation -a bad habit of mine- and I exhale in impatience when I find out the stranger is flirting with the girl at the counter. I watch as he brings one of his pale, long, hands to hers and hands her a slip of white, folded paper, as she blushes and gives him a sly smile with a sharp smirk in her eyes. She looked menacing for a bit. Then the figure gives his thanks. and bids his goodbye and turns around. My heart drops, or maybe just stops? I don't know, in suprise or shock maybe, when the figure smiles recognizingly at me. I feel sort of stupid for not realizing the guy was wearing a leather jacket and boots...  
  
"Ditching detention so I see, bad boy. " States Gerard, honestly, I haven't seen much of this guy during the entire school year yet now I just can't seem to stop bumping into him at random times. I give him one of my, I'm sort of creeped out but trying not to show it, smiles and reply with a weak, yeah. I wonder how the hell he knew I was ditching detention, I don't remember ever mentioning to him I had three weeks worth of it. What is he playing at? Is he stalking me? I dismiss those questions as fast as I asked them. I look at Ray, who is looking at Gerard with some sort of unease, and caution shown on his face. Ray looks back at me with curious eyes and I lift my eyebrow at him.   
"Uh, this is my friend Ray, eh Ray this is Gerard." I introduce them, sort of unenthusiastically, and Ray gives me a weary look, while Gerard continues to smile.   
"Nice to meek a friend of Frank's." Gerard adresses Ray, and Ray snaps himself out of whatever thoughts he was having and coughs, then shakes Gerard's hand from where he was holding it out for him.   
"Anyways I have to run, see you aroound, Frank." It seems that he has adopted all those phrases that never cease to chill my bones.Gerard turns to the girl in the counter, blows her a kiss and winks, then as he struts to the door he pats my shoulder, and winks, I start to watch him leave but then snap myself out of whatever trance that I was about to have and stare at Ray.  
  
Once we finish buying our records, Ray and I make out into the evening sun. The wind turns chilly, and the sky starts to darken. We make it four or five blocks away from the store in silence and then-   
"That's Gerard?" Ray asks, in daze or shock, I wouldn't know.   
"Yup."   
"He's always gone to your school?" He asks, cautiously.   
"Don't know." I continue to walk ahead, and most certaintly do not stare at my best friend.   
"He offered you weed?"   
"mhm"   
  
We stay silent for a while, and we near Ray's house he blurts out-   
"I've heard very unpleasant things about him.."  
That got my attention. I stare at him in curiousity, how had he heard of Gerard when I hadn't even known he exsisted 'till this week, we go to different schools, how does he know?   
"Hmm, like what?" I ask.   
"Just stuff.."   
"Ok." I decide I am going to ignore him. He is always suspicious of everyone, even more than me.   
"Look, Frank...just be careful. Some people...some people..." He doesn't finish his sentance.   
"Some people what!" I raise my voice in impatience, I wanna know, I wanna hear what he wants to say, I feel anxious.   
"Some people aren't right.." He says.   
My anxiousness deflates and I reply in a neutral voice.   
"Well obviously, they're all assholes anyways.."   
"Look, just..keep you're eyes open." He says worridely  
I am not even going to begin asking what it's all about, frankly I do not care, people talk, that's it, it doesn't matter if I do not witness it.   
"Ok sure.." I smile reassuringly at him. And he slowly smiles back at me.  
  
We make it to his house and I spend the night. Our night is full of pizza, music, movies, video games, and laughter. And as I walk home in the morning I still feel the buzz of happiness for being with my best friend an entire night. I still feel the buzz of adrenaline, that is not caused by drugs. I remember our conversations and the things we laughed about and I smile to myself. But as I get closer to home, I start to think about Gerard, or more about the way he winked at me with a mischieveous eye. And I start to remember what Ray tried to tell me about him. But I keep switching back to the way Gerard's hand sort of slithered it's way into the counter girl's, and to how distressed Ray looked, then back to how Gerard's same hand that touched the girl's landed on my shoulder for some brief seconds. And I merely put away the conversation I 'had' with Ray. Any conversation with Ray is worth remembering but, as I think about the kiss Gerard blew to the girl, this one seems sort of petty. 


	5. Knowledge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Not all people are innocent."

I love Saturdays. Or any days when it isn't required to go to school. But most of all I love Saturdays, my imagination always runs wild on these days. I always play guitar and write poems, thoughts whatever, non stop and my days are full of the joy of music. And also the joy of being alone all day without any stupid people, or my parents. Seeing as they both work and come home late at nights, all though it should bother me it never does. I seem to have basically grown myself into a mature adoscolent since I was a child. I can conform to my responsiblities and think rationally, I didn't need my parents to teach me morals, I raised myself, and I quite liked it. Saturdays are like my haze days, I sit around lazily sometimes and watch t.v all day. My weekend usually varies on my mood, but they are always enjoyable. They feel like the only time I can breath.   
  
Sundays aren't as enjoyable, they are sometimes very boring and brooding due to the Mondays that soon follow. I am usually in a foul mood so my parents let me be, locked up in my room, slithering away from exsistance. I usually stay in my pajamas all day and do nothing but watch t.v or sit. Very uneventful, unpredictable, boring days. Still they are always better than school.   
  
Everyone hates Mondays. That seems to be the only thing I have in common with most people. They are long and painful and just a waste of a 'good' week. I usually ditch Mondays at school. I might hate Mondays at school more than I hate school itself. Except for when I ditch Mondays, I do as I please and enjoy my time withering away at home in my thoughts, and silence. Most Mondays I do chores, and spend the only day my mom rests. This week's Monday was no exception. I stayed home.   
  
On Tuesdays I usually feel in a daze, even more than ever if I ditch Mondays and today is no exception. I get tons of homework which I quickly make up and turn in and tread through my day in apathy. Getting back to school is always hard, because I have to adjust and be patient and tolerate all the idiots at my school. I always feel I'm going in reverse metamorphisis of a butterfly, weekends I feel like that amazing butterfly that flies as it wishes gracefully on the sky and going back to school feels like I am folding myself back into my cold cacoon to hang from a tree unpleasantely, impatiently. I should be use to it, but evidently I am not.   
  
I chew on my pencil in thought of what would happen if I punched the guy talking obnoxiously next to me..honestly people, for god's sake please make this day more bearable and shut up. The guy next to me stops talking and I think finally in my head. Then I look at him because the class seems to have gotten quieter. The guy, Kev, Kevin, I don't give a shit, gives me a nasty look and his mouth sneers down like a dog who is about to bark. Oh well shit, I must've said that out loud. And before I know it -I really did know it- he asks, very stupidly, seeing as the obvious is the blatant obvious- "What did you say?"   
"You heard, you're quiet, good." I retort. He gives me a look, like he wants to say something but in second thought he seems to have left it in the small cardboard box he calls a brain, because soon enough he sitting, quietly, -I note smugly- in his desk. I raise my eyebrow at him trying hard not to smirk and he looks the other way.   
  
During break I get called to the front office, oh joy. The dean of attendance reprimands me like a shunning mother and very aggressively hands me a saturday school note. Well, I'm never ditching detention again. She smiles smugly as my face breaks into dissapointment, that bitch. And I take the note harshly from her desk and storm out, heading to my next class, I sigh just four more classess and a lunch to go, then I can leave. I sulk just one more week and four days to go, then one Saturday and my punishement is over. As I make it to my fourth period, guitar class, I see Gerard in the hallways and he smiles at me, I smile back.   
  
I enter my guitar class and I am full of dread, ever since that day I broke my strings I've been getting condescending comments from my teacher and it still fucking stings. I make it to the the corner seat and take out the guitar I use. Before I start tuning it though....  
"Frank, I would like a word with you." My teacher says  
I walk towards his seat with a glare set but my heart is beating fast and I feel my stomach sinking low.   
"Yeah.." I say.   
He looks at me unceartainly like he's going to say something that could make a child cry, he looks guilty, that bastard. He is taking his sweet ass time and I start to grow impatiently angry.   
"Look don't beat around the bush." I snap, his eyes widen in shock and I let some pride in me smile. At this point I don't even care if I land another detention or if he says something that is supposed to be worthing of respect because it's not like he doesn't say things that hurt me. I keep staring at him and he finally coughs and spits it out like a nasty cat with a hairball would.   
" I believe that you are steering in wrong directions." Could his phrases get any more ridiculous? And what is up with all these people concerned for where I am going. He continues before I can retort anything.   
"Look I know a troubled teenager when I see one, I would like you to know that there is cofindence between us and you can tell me about anything that bothers you." I really am not troubled, maybe a bit anti-social, but clearly not trouble that bastard is being an asshole again. There isn't any confidence between us, he makes me feel like shit and I do not trust him, and the only thing bothering me is him.   
"If you're on drugs or anything, look I could help." He accentuates the 'p' with a smack of his lips. I would very much like to rip his face off now, instead I clench my jaw and glare at him. He continues to look at me, his eyes full of pity, and really pity isn't going to get any one anywhere. I wish I had a different teacher, maybe the same one from last year. Anyone but this guy.   
"Ok." I reply, ice lacing the small word, making my teacher flinch.   
"Thanks..." I drawl, "But no thanks.."  
"Don't need your help, goodbye." I turn around and stomp towards my seat and start tuning my guitar.   
  
During the entire period my teacher does not look at me and blatantly avoids eye contact, good. After leaving the class my mood is sour and down rotten, seems to be the only feeling I seem to get after that class. I don't know why I let him bother me so much,why I just take his shit. I would stand up to myself, but it benefits me, I need good reviews on my talents. I need to be noticed as a great musician, I put everything in my work and I don't want it to be taken in vain. Maybe that's why, I am far more ambitious than I am prideful. And if being knocked around by a 'professional' than so be it, because I will make it farther, there is no doubt, and there will be no regret.   
  
As I make it to my usual secluded spot during lunch I am stopped by a hand on my shoulder. I turn around ready to lash out at who it was, I hate being touched. But when I look at the person who touched me, I am sort of shocked.  
"Uh...Hi..I think you dropped this..." A girl shyly says, her cheeks burning. I look at her hand and I see that why I dropped was my lighter. I give her a small smile, take the lighter, gently from her hand and give my thanks. She gives me a timid smile in return and turns away, scurrying off like a little cute mouse towards her friends. I've seen her somewhere, I just don't know from where, maybe she's from my science class, either way she is really cute. I smile to myself making it to my usual spot outside.   
  
Walking to my wall, I slide down, close my eyes, and inhale the spacious air.   
  
"Do you always sit here?....alone." Someone asks, I don't even need to open my eyes to know who it is. I give Gerard a lazy smile, with my eyes still closed.   
"Hmm Yup." I reply. I open my eyes slowly, knowing I was being stared at and hating the feeling. Gerard slowly sits next to me against the wall.   
"Mind if I join?" He asks, making himself comfortable, stretching his legs out like a cat and taking out a cigarette. Clearly, he didn't need an answer. Before he asks, I take my lighter out -still warm from the grasp the girl had it in, I note- and lean towards him and light his cigarette. He takes it out of his mouth once it's fully lighted and hands it to me, I take it willingly, not really caring about personal space or germs, not knowing why, since I usually do. He takes out another and lights it for himself , when did he take my lighter?   
"When did you do that?" I ask, preplexed, he looks at me, cigarette hanging from his mouth,cheeks slightly hollow, a gleam in his eyes that I cannot identify.   
"Hmm, what? Take your lighter from you?" Playing dumb I see, I roll my eyes. He chuckles.   
" I took it when I handed you your cigarette." He states  
"Ok, but how?" I am quite curious. He stares at me, with a contemplative face, which I know is faux because the question was simple. He moves his head from side to side, in a parody manner of thinking to drag it out, to make me wait. I become flustered with impatience, and because I hate being stared, and when I'm about to ask again, he blows smoke out, and responds.   
"I call it my substitution method." He takes a puff from his cig, inhaling deeply, then blowing it out with a slow, relaxed manner. He continues, "It's like pit pocking, except it's a more direct, more careless, approach...it's like, when you distract them through eye contact, give them somthing to hold on to, they involuntarinly give you what they want because they have something else.." He muses, finding it hard to explain, but I found it quite easy to understand.   
"Oh I get it, It's more of a psychological thing.." I muse, he blows smoke towards my face and my eyes water, I take his cig from him. He smiles at me, passive, and nods his head. Giving me a proud smack in the back. I put the cigs out and stare at him.   
"So is this what you do on your free time?" I ask, then continue, "Figuring ways on how to fool innocent people's mind to steal them of their precious things? Tsk, tsk That's bad...quite bad indeed.." I shun playfully, he chuckles and I feel quite proud. Ok that's weird..  
"Not all people are innocent." He replies, jokingly, except it's true, the words are deeper than they are made to sound. "Plus, it's quite incedible how intellegent and foolish the mind can be at times. Not all materials are precious, you aren't precisely innocent, and.." He drawls out "I never said I was good." He smirks, and I find truth in his words, knowledge that other people lack, I feel myself more even more keen of him than before. I start to laugh.   
"That's good, that's really good." He gives me a proud smile.   
  
The bell that signals the end of lunch rings, and for once, I feel slightly put off and bummed out that lunch is over. We get up from the floor and when we head inside I remember a question I've been meaning to ask Gerard since I saw him last Friday.   
"Hey...How did you know I ditched detention?" I stare at him questionly, he side glances at me, with a passive countenace matching his lazy paces. He stares at me for about two minutes as we walk inside the school and says " I just know things." Once inside the school he says goodbye, and walks aways.   
  
I am left alone in the hallways of the school contemplating what the means, what it implies, and what it promises.


	6. Whisper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was expecting something grand but it was just an apple.

There are times when my mood gets down, and I feel like curling up in a ball to wither away. Most of the time my moods are capricious, and need absolutely no justicfication whatsoever, one minute I'm happy, the next I'm angry, there is no system, there is no pattern, just impulse. I rarely ever get sad, I often forget what the feeling, feels like, but when I do feel it, it strikes like harsh winds. On those days when I feel down, -and down is not the same meaning as sad- I talk a little less than I usually do, snap at people alot, and overall look like shit. I have no inspiration, no motivation, and absolutely no sense of humor.   
  
When the feeling of dejection arises, it is most likely catalysed by lack of sleep. And considering I suffer from chronic insomnia, one might think it comes regularly, but in actuality, it rarely happens. All though I do manage to take pills to get sleep, -but only when I feel like it- I do not actually enjoy them. I seem to enjoy sleep even less. Sleep to me is only a reminder that the human body is weak and needs rest, because unfortunately one cannot power on through life without a little sleep. I often find myself trying to contradict this fact from the human body, and in result, my body suffers from sleep depravation and minor-starvation. And I do only mean body, because my mind never shuts up, and continues to stay active even during bodily damage.   
  
Because of my 'little' self-contradicting issue, there is a never ending war wedged between the cracks and crevices of my deluded mind. My mind tries to defy my body's wishes -needs- in every way possible, striving hard to be something greater, stronger. It (I) refuse to sleep unless absolutely necessary, and that is only when my body is sobbbing from depravation. I consume as little as much food as I can get away with, all though food is good and overall pleasant, I often get lazy, tired, and bored by eating it. I only ever gorge myself with food when I finish spreading my creative juices around my atmosphere. I do not eat at school (unless I am 'starving') just because I like to test my body's limits. It really is all about endurance, yet my body seems to be offended by it, -taking note by the dark circles under my eyes- yet I believe my body will take it's death toll, thanks to all of my mind's doing.   
  
Being a teenager I often find my body heat steering in different directions, sometimes even south. I find it ridiculous how the human body needs, thrives for sex when It is unecassary for it's exsistence. All though there are many benefits for sexual activity, I do not find myself to want to be part of any. Seeing as I rarely like people, and even rarely find them attractive. Thus, my body is also rejected of its 'nature' due to my endurace. Though there is hardly much to endure, seeing as it isn't even distracting or pleasing, it is just annoying.   
  
It seems blatantly obvious that I am a slave to my mind and I like it that way. I have come to a conclusion that if anything will end me, it will be caused by my own doing, and I very much like the thought of that.   
  
Today is one of those days where I feel like utter shit.   
  
I've no Idea how I've made it through half of my classes today. But I seem to have made it sluggishly through the mourning hours of school with out even noticing. But now, as I'm walking towards my spot in lunch, I can feel the aftermath of the tortuous hours my body has suffered. As I sit down and breath in the fresh air, I feel the goosebumps caused by the cold air conditiong saw themselves off my skin. And as I look around the parking lots, I feel my eyes prickle with tears caused by the lights, and lack of sleep. Then, my stomach starts grumbling.   
  
I close my eyes from the sting of the air and moan a cry of fatigue, then bump my head against the wall behind me. I stay like that for a long time trying hard not to think about how tired I am. My body feels small and weak, and I wanna crawl inside a box, tape it all up, and mail myself to my bedroom. I can feel slumber beckoning me with persuasive whispers and I shake myself, I will not fall to this trap. I stare at the grass in front of me looking for insects while taking out my ipod and putting on my headphones. I wish the world could go away. I'm listening to Tears by the Smashing Pumpkins when I feel the presence of a body sit down next to mine. I let a tired sigh escape my lips and I briefly acknowledge Gerard with a small nod. I am in no mood to speak.   
  
Luckily, he seems very observant because he does not say a word, good. Instead he just throws a soft object at my lap and stares straight ahead. I look down at my lap, and see a bag of weed, then I smile wide and bright. I don't even think twice, I roll up and light up a joint then take a hit. I hand it over to Gerard as a gesture of gratitude and he eagearly accepts it. I believe we spend most of lunch like that, but somewhere along the lines, I fell asleep. I let the weed lull me into sleep and I run straight into slumber's arms.   
  
I dream randomnly, about suns, and stars and all that good space shit. And as I'm dancing on the moon I hear a voice beckoning me. Sweet, smooth velvet vocal chords calling my name like a spell. I sigh and follow it. As I get closer to the voice I see a figure up ahead shaped like a tree. And when I get in front of the tree, I circle around it and find something lovely behind. It's a red box, with beautiful scriptures of calligraphy written all over it, and all though I do not know what the words say, I do know they mean something important. And then I hear whispers, I couldn't hear them before, but I hear them now, they sound from up above and I look up, and I see that the leaves are whispering to me. The vowels are barely audible but as I rise to my tipie toes I hear them clearly now. They are telling me not to open the box. Oh well that's a shame I think, and giggle as I bend down over the box and open the lid. I was expecting something grand but it was just an apple. Boring.   
  
I am waken by a hand shaking my shoulder. And I stay still for a few minutes trying to ignore it but then I hear the whispering of my name.   
  
"Frank" Whisper, shake.   
"Frank." My name is drawled now, whisper, shake.   
"Frank." Whisper, three shakes.   
  
I open my eyes before I get shaken again, not really wanting to punch some one. Once my eyes are up I notice my head is leaning on a shoulder, and I quickly move like as if it was a scathing shoulder and focus my vision. It's Gerard, and he's staring at me with a weary smile. Ok...I cough a little and avert my eyes.   
"The bell rang." Gerard whispers and I stay silent and slowly drag my eyes towards his face.   
"I put your weed inside you backpack so it wouldn't get taken." He continues to whisper. And I continue to stare at him, willing my mind to hurry up and reply.   
" I think we're gonna be late." He's still whispering. I let my eyes crunch up in confusion and I feel the wispy haze of sleep dissapate from my mind.   
"Why are you whispering?" I ask, my voice in normal range, it seems to cut through the quiet of the air and I wince to myself. Gerard stares at me and laughs. Ok..I feel dizzy.   
"Thought you didn't want to talk, even less listen to people talk." He states smiling at me. Hmm that's very considerate.   
"Ah." I reply. I feel awkward. I hate sleeping in front of people. Even less sleeping on top of them. I don't know what to say or do. Instead I stare down at my lap and gasp in suprise. There is an apple on my lap. How did that get there? Why is it there? It was in my dream, does it mean something? Am I psychic? The questions start piling onto themselves as my mind digs for answers and before I come to a conclusion, my thoughts are broken by the sound of Gerard's voice.   
"It's an Aceyman apple." He states. He could've just said apple. I really don't think there is much of a difference anyways, an apple is an apple. Who remembers all the names of a variety of apples anyways? That's kinda, weird. Before I reply, my thoughts are once again broken.   
"You looked like shit, I figured you were hungry and needed energy."   
Well, that makes me feel better. I look at Gerard whose smiling at me and I smile back.   
"Thanks." I say then, "We should be getting back now." We get up, and I cluth the apple in my hand. It fits perfectly.   
  
When we make it inside, -eight minutes late- Gerard pats me on the shoulder and before we leave he says-  
"Hey, you wanna hang out this Friday?" I look at him, he looks hopeful, but I'm reluctant to go out anywhere with anyone. I give him a rueful smile a say, "Sorry man. I got detention remember?” He returns the smile and we part out ways.   
  
As I walk to my class, I hold on to the apple, making sure not to bruise it. Then I put it in my backpack, safely next to the weed. I do not eat it. But when I get home, I place on my desk, and watch it ,as it rots for ten weeks. It’s good enough, the air is eating it for me. Sometimes I would catch my self watching the apple for hours with a smile on my face. Because I know someone cares.


	7. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know it's trust when you invite them over.

After three weeks of detention. two weeks of rejecting Gerard's invites to hang out, four weeks of hanging out with Ray, and one week of contemplation, I decide I am well accustomed to Gerard enough, to invite him over at my place.He seems to be my only friend at school, -sometimes I wonder why I never bothered to make friends, and how I made it this far in school alone- and I believe I like him well enough to visit my dwelling. I'm not very keen of people knowing personal things about me, that including where I live or my phone number. In general I am not very keen of people. But I believe Gerard has surpassed my expectations of a decent human, and has now moved from an acquaintance to a close acquaintance.   
  
It is a Friday afternoon full of rushing wind, and falling leaves in preperation of autumn, when I ask Gerard if he would like to come over.   
"Huh?" He replies, eyes alight with surprise and excitement. I laugh at his expression, his mouth slightly ajar, cigarette hanging from his lips, threatning a great fall.   
" I said, would you like to come over at my place today?" I reply, slowly, mockingly with a smile on my face, a breath away from snorting in amusement.   
"No I heard you." He recovers, taking a puff from his cigarette.   
" Ok.. well?" Unceartainty coils around my words.   
"I'm quite suprised Frankie boy." He smirks, and I can't stop the chuckle from crawling out of my mouth.   
"Why?" I ask, Gerard doesn't seem like the type of guy to get suprised easily, he seems to know what's going to happen and when, as if he has a timeline written on his palm, making everything predictably unsuprising.   
" Because it took you ten weeks to ask me, I was expecting a longer time. Then of course,I do seem like the only person you like in this blasted school. You also have slight trust issues," He holds his hand up before I protest as he sees my coutenance furrow ," and you're quite elusive with who you talk to hence, why you don't trust anyone. I'm just quite suprised that you trust me enough, I'm not sure how much, to take me where you live." He smiles. Well it's all very obvious I suppose, people are quite untrustworthy.   
"You flattering yourself Gerard? Is it working?" I tease at him, it's true I trust him enough, even though he does seem quite shady, then again a lot of people seem quite shady, I don't know if it's my trusts issues making him appear so or not, it doesn't really matter. He laughs, and puts off his cigarette once the bell for the end of lunch rings.   
"Maybe," He chuckles, "And yes I would like to know where you live." He replies with a mock tone of a stalker and I laugh as we make towards the school.   
" Ok we'll meet here." I say, pointing towards a tree near the entrance of the school.   
" 'Kay," He replies, souding like an excited child.   
  
We part our ways and head towards our classes. I shoot the shit in my remaining classess and manage to block everyone out. Finishing all my homework with a satisfied nod, I smile to myself and take a nap during the last twenty minutes or so of school left. I don't dream about anything other than the falling leaves, the changing shades of red orange and yellow like a painting of watercolor. I only dream about the cold breeze and the rushing of wind dancing with the leaves. And I only dream about the harvested agriculture on a bright sunny autumn day, and the clutching of apples from up above from the branches of trees.   
  
I wake up in a hazy blur of tranquility when the bell rings. Then I leisurely make my way outside the school to meet up with Gerard. My steps are slow and sluggish, pursued by the sound of my converse tapping against the floor. Tap, hit then rest, as I pick my feet up to take a step. The pattern continues on as I make it towards the door, tap, hit, then rest. I find the sound quite soothing, and I smile feeling high of my own air. My muscles feel loose, and for once in this detested, tedious, week I feel calm, and relaxed. I make it outside the school doors, a cool breeze rushing in, making my small frame shiver. I look around and see Gerard next to the tree, looking up ahead, his back facing me, and his raven head of hair dancing about freely. I walk towards to him and he seems to have noticed my presence because he turns around and smirks at me. I mockingly glare at him.   
  
"Well then, Frank?" He inquires mouth tilted and eyes shining. I roll my eyes at him.   
"Follow me." I say.   
  
We make it past the school's parking lots. Dodging cars and students swiftly. As I walk faster away from school, as I always do in order to avoid everyone, Gerard pulls something out from his leather jacket. I glance at him as he stretches the hand with the said object towards me. I look at him questionly, then at the hand, that he is extending so gracefully towards me with a orangish/reddish apple in tow. I pluck it gingerly from his hand.   
" It's an Adams Permian apple." He states, as he sees me holding the apple and staring curiously at its lopsided form.   
"Uh, thanks." I reply, unceartainly. Then to evade my awkwardness at someone being kind to me, I ask, " Do you always carry apples around?" My brows are furrowed  
"Only on convinient occasions." He grins   
"How the fuck do you know the names of all of them?"   
"Because I'm intrested in them." His head nods from side to side, a weird notion I have yet seen, it makes him almost look childish.   
"Ah ok, cool." I reply.   
  
We continue our way towards my house. The wind tickles our hair and brushes our cheeks, and I shiver -being sensitive to the cold-. As we make it near my house, we pass by an old tree, shedding leaves like the second skin of a snake, and showering us in orange. I smile, as I hear the satisfying crunch of stepping on leaves. And Gerard giggles at me, probably because it was quite childish, or maybe because of my expression, I don't know. But then, as we make it across the front lawn of my house -too lazy to use the sidewalk- he grabs my shoulder. I stop and my heart starts to pound in..panic? And plucks an orange leave from my hair, spinning around his fingers with a smile. I cough. I direct him towards my door, and with few effort, unlock it. I open the door, walking inside with Gerard following after me, we are greeted with warmth.  
  
I look at him awkwardly, unsure now that he is inside, no one from school has ever been inside my house and now that Gerard is here I am not so sure if I like it. I've always been a bit territorial, but that's because it's quite obvious that peoples' homes are private. On entering a house one could find out many things, and it's sort of intruding in a weird kinda way. Yet, as I look at Gerard waiting for me to say something, his hair a wind swept mess, and warm eyes directed towards me, -possibly because he seems to know what I am thinking- he doesn't seem to be intruding.   
  
"Well know that you know where I live, you can stalk me." I deadpan. He chuckles.  
"I do believe this knowledge is quite usefull to me." He remarks with a sly smile, as he looks around my house.   
"It's nice in here." He comments, I shift, "Well then, Frankestein, are you going to show me to your room, or am I gonna have to find it myself?" He lifts an eyebrow.   
"Uh, uh. Not with that tone mister." I mockingnly shake my head at him.   
"Want anything to drink?" I ask, walking to the kitchen I open the fridge in look for something he might like.   
"Anything you have Frankie." He calls from the living room. Hmm ok, I pull out two cokes from the fridge.   
"Ooh I like coke." He says, his voice loud in my ear, frightening me, -I didn't here him come- and I splutter and wince then after three seconds give a late reaction shout. He laughs, as I glare at him.   
"None for you." I say, yet I hand him the coke.   
  
Leaving the kitchen, I show him to my room, and as I open the door, he lets out a low whistle, impressed I believe. I close the door, throw my back pack in the corner and flop down on my bed, he comes near me and before I tell him he can sit, he perches on the edge of my bed. I uncomfortably shift, then sit up, pulling the apple he gave me out of my jacket. I clutch the apple and inspect it, turning it around as I fiddle awkwardly with it. We sit in silence, I am quite nervous for a reason I don't know and he lets out an awkward cough, probably sensing my nerves. He shifts a little, then lays down vertically from my bed, long legs hanging of it. Then he lets out a loud laugh, startling me.   
  
"Ok no more being weird, Frankestein." He excalimes, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a bag of weed.   
"Wanna get high?" He gives me a sly smile and I return it gratefully. I laugh at him.   
"I got a lighter." I say, though he all ready knows.   
  
"Well, then. Light me up baby." I laugh at the pet name. His eyes sparkle with mischieviousness and I compliment with an equally mischievious smile.  
  
Oh boy.


	8. Dear Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I only know three things about Gerard.

We were flying, high in the fog of ecstasy. Swiming, pulling, and shifting in the silence of our minds. Giggling, smiling and talking from our numb lips. Bodies numb, and minds held far, together we climbed the highest mountains of serenity, basking in the sunlight of our illuminated thoughts. I woul've lied if I claimed I've never felt this way, but in some sort of form, it does indeed feel different. Here in the enclosed space of my room, lying on my bed with an almost-stranger feels different. I feel connected to this guy who I barely know, not like I feel with Ray, it feels somehow, deeper, if there ever were a word to describe it. It's not because he got me free weed, or because he gave me apples, or even because he is in fact a stranger, not even because he appeared in my dreams. I cannot place it, I cannot understand why I feel closer to this guy than I do to my best friend, and I don't think I will ever find out.   
  
His laughter ruptures the womb of my thoughts. I giggle in the haze.   
"Dude, I've been saying your name, where the hell are you?" He asks, laughing. He's lying horizontally on my bed, legs rested over my stomach as I lie vertically. I stare at him and can't help but laugh, this weed is strong, if it's not the weed then I don't know what it is.   
"Dunno man," I slur, "Hey what kinda weed is this by the way? I feel so fuckin' good.." I drawl, giggling.   
"'T's called train wreck.." he muses, " 't's supposed to leave you paranoid or some shit," he giggles at the after thought.   
"Don't feel like a wreck just feel great." I comment, Gerard turns his head towards me and gives me a serious look, "Guess it's not working," He muses, then his countenance breaks into a joyful grin and he looks at the ceiling and laughs. God, this guy is weird, I will never stop thinking that. I stare at his profile, he looks kinda like a girl. Maybe if I squint my eyes enough, his features will blur, accentuating his girlish-ness. I try, his profile blurs and I can't really see anything besides the fog, guess I wasn't doing it right. I try again, this time I squint harder it seems very uncomfortable, but I can almost see it now, Gerard as a girl.   
  
Once again his laughter forces me out of my hazed thoughts.   
"Dude, what the fuck are you doing?" He giggles, "You look like a goat."   
"I was trying to see if you looked like a girl if squint hard enough." I reply disconcerted by the thought that it didn't work that well.   
"Sheesh Frankie, I'm offended," He snorts  
"It's not my fault, you kinda look like a chick," I retort  
"I think I'd make a hot chick," He muses, lifting his hand to the ceiling and staring at his nails, I stare at his pale long fingers dancing across the light of my room, they glow yellow and I am reminded of sunsets and gold. I don't reply at his statement, to busy looking at his hands, all creamy and soft. I reach for his hand and bring it towards my eyes, they looked soft but they feel rough, and when I turn it around to the palm it's full of caulluses and dried skin. His nails are stubby and short, un-manicured, bitten off and bordered with torn skin and hangnails.   
"I like hands," I state   
"I can tell," he smirks.   
  
I feel the fog of bliss slowly seep out of my pores.   
"Was that supposed to happen?" I ask  
"Hmm....What?" He asks distractedly.   
"Was the weed supposed to wear off without us noticing?" I ask, impatiently  
"Mmm, I don't think so no."   
  
I look at my hands and realize I'm still holding his, I awkwardly let go of it. Giving a sheepish smile I say, "Sorry,"   
He snorts/giggles and rubs his eyes with his free hand, then continues to laugh into it for at least thirty seconds.   
"Geesus, man," He giggles, rubbing his face,"It's not like you were fondling my dick," I splutter "All though, handjobs aren't that bad," He says as an after thought.   
"I suppose I dunno," I reply, over my emberassment.   
"You suppose? What, wait no." He gawkes. I stare back with a blank face and he concludes, "Huh now I see it.."   
"See what?" I ask, sort of maybe just a little offended..  
"No one's ever touched your dick," I glare at him, "Not that, you asshole," I reply  
"Ok ok. I mean I can see it now, becuase after all you're not the kindest of people." I glare at him, "Doesn't make sense to me." I say   
"Uhg what I mean is, I can't see you indulging in that, you seem far too, knowledgable without being so,"  
"Are you calling me daft?" I ask, now I am offended.   
"No! Jesus! Man, that's not what I meant, you gotta lemme talk first."   
"Ok" I reply   
" You seem to above it all, like all human nescessities are not your priority, you know too much and you don't find it necassary to indulge in what your body needs. It's like, you only care about the things that go in your mind and not your body." He concludes with a nod to emphasize. I look at him for a while maybe even minutes, narrowing my eyes, I don't even know anything about him yet, he can figure things out about me. I don't understand and I want to move past that now.   
"You wouldn't make a hot chick." I state with narrowed eyes and a smirk. He pouts, "Oh well, whatever. Your opinion is totally biased." He states and smirks.   
  
We stare at each other for a while, most likely thinking the same thing.   
"Wanna roll a joint?"   
"Yeah."   
  
The cycle begins once again.   
  
I get up from my bed, walking sluggishly towards my stereo. I put on Electric Wizard, and let the waves of sound dance with the waves of my fogged up mind. Gerard walkes towards me, puts his hands on my shoulders then walks me towards my bed, my heart starts pounding quickly and I am filled with panic. He then throws me down on my bed, and my cheeks flush in confusion, or in fear. He is standing, staring down on me with a smirk, my eyes are wide and my heart wrecks the cage of my ribs. Then he slowly strolls over to my desk and sits on my chair. He stares at me, eyes alight with a mischievious shine, then reaches into his pocket he pulls out the apple he gave me.  
  
I giggle, " Didn't see that coming," I continue laughing, all that game was to take the apple, "If you wanted it back so badly you could've asked, ya know?" I inquire   
"Where's the fun in that?" He smirks. I smile.   
"Is this my punishment for not saying you'd make a hot chick?" I laugh  
"No.." He drawls, "That comes another day."   
  
  
  
I open my eyes, my room is shaded with gray, looking outside the window, I am greeted by the moonlight. I look around my bed, then check the time, I must have falling asleep from the high. I look towards my desk, Gerard is no where to be seen. I would've assumed today was just a dream, but the apple sitting on my desk proves me otherwise. I slowly get up from bed, the springs creak, and my head hurts, most likely from hunger. I walk towards my desk and pick up the apple.   
  
It's carved, most likely Gerard's doing. There's a portrait of a crying mary virgin, holding a heart full of spades. I stare in astonishment. It's beautiful.   
  
Gerard is a stranger and there are perhaps only a few things I know about him. Today I have learned around three. One least important than the other two. One, he isn't a virgin. Two, he has the hands of a hard worker, rough and calloused. And three, he's an artist.   
  
I place the apple down with a smile, too bad it's gonna rot, I add. I look at the corner of my desk and see a note I have failed to see before.   
  
Had a fun day Frankestine. You crashed so I let myself out. Btw, I knew you weren't going to eat that apple, you didn't eat the one I gave you before. -Gerard >:]   
  
  
  
Ok maybe four, or five. Four, Gerard is sneaky and quiet. Five, he knows more than a lot about me. 


	9. People are Unique

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People are often like dreams.

  
 People are often like dreams. Pictures randomnly strung together in the subconcious mind, creating a whole image and perspective. They are not entirely undesirable, but also not completely invited. People, like dreams, just come and go, and there is nothing one can do to stop them, they shift and fit themselves in exsistence of the world like dreams would to a mind. Some people are pleasant like satisfying dreams that one would wish to view repeatedly. Other people are like nightmares, barging in, intruding and intimidating. Most of these people are pariahs. People, much like dreams, are so predictably unpredicatable. Dreams are made up of images, many people often dream the same thing, like flying or driving, yet these dreams are distinct because for one the sky might have been purple or their car might have been yellow. Small little details such as those are what make dreams unpredictable. Same with people, everyone shares same characteristics, yet some are more prominent than others, the pattern of these qualaties are what make people different, details make everything unique.   
  
Sometimes I am lying between the barriers of my concious and subconcious, dreaming and aware. I can often predict what will happen in my dreams, but I can never control or change them, I just have to wait there, lying for the inevitable to happen. All though I wish I could change the course of my dreams, I know all the want is futile, dreams can never be chained. Much is the same when I watch people, I can often discern what they're about to say or do by watching their countenance and reading their body language. And I know when people are about to do something, bad like hurting someone or saying something hurtful, and I know it's about to happen but I can't do anything to change what I know is going to happen. I cannot chain people. And it often fustrates me so, that I know, quite a lot, what one will do, and never be able to stop them.   
  
People, much like dreams, are predictably unpredictable.   
  
  
So I just lie there, on my bed, in my shaded room thinking about people. I think I might have taken a nap, but I'm not sure wether or not I was just spacing out. I hear knocking on my door and I turn to look at it, motionless. I watch as the doorknob slowly rotates and the door opens.   
  
"Your parents aren't home, so I just let myself in." Claims my best friend. I look at him then turn my gaze towards the ceiling.   
"Thank god," I groan out, " I was so bored," I was so lost in my thoughts, I just want to stop thinking, is what I truly meant, he already knows what I meant.   
"Then good for you, cause I wrote some new guitar tabs and I wanna know what you think." Ray says excitedly, smiling and jumping on my bed. I look at the side of my room and notice his guitar is on the floor. I smile.   
"Yeah okay. Sounds great show me man." I reply enthusiastically.   
"Uhg, now that I'm lying down, I really don't wanna get up, go get if for me will ya?" He mumbles face down my bed. I chuckle   
"No you lazy ass, get it yourself,"   
"I walked here you've been laying, most likely, for hours." He lifts his face up, arching his eyebrow. I smirk.   
"Okay fine, asshole, you owe me." I groan, I get up, my bed creaking in protest, and sluggishly make my way to his guitar.   
"I'm gracing you with my presence, I think that is enough." Ray states, I chuckle. Placing the guitar on my bed, I make it towards my closet and take out my own guitar, then I, gratefully, sit back down on my bed. Pulling out the music sheets in Ray's guitar case I start reading the tabs.   
"Woah these are a lot of sheets, do they make a full song?" I ask, astounded.   
"Yeah, I don't know what tab combination I should put for the end though." He states.   
  
I nod in acknowledgement and start playing the tabs. They sound remarkable, the high chords emitting an angry sound while the lower ones give the impression of serenity. The sounds vibrate through my ears and I can almost hear the thoughts that Ray was spilling through his music. I look towards at him as he reads my countenance expectantly, with hopeful eyes. I smile at him and finish off the song. There are no other words to describe how amazed I am. The ending was a bit hesitant and I can see why, he needed a little bit more tabs to finish it off, not knowing wether to finish it in rage or in peace. I play around with some tabs, and find a combination that ends with an air of question as I vibrate the last chord.   
"Sounds amazing man," I grin at him as he smiles back pridefully.   
"Hey I like the end tab that you made, it finishes of the song perfectly."   
"You think so?" I ask, and start messing with my guitar a bit.   
"Yeah, like the person doesn't know how to feel at the end because they are uncertain if their emotions are supposed to be 'right' in result of whatever happened."   
"Yeah I suppose so, thanks." I say.   
  
The entire day we mess about with our guitars and listen to music. By the time it's evening we have come up with two songs, in result of the draining of creativity, we lazed about in my room watching movies and eating pizza. I watch the t.v screen dazedly as the zombie cat comes back to life and starts attacking the men. I giggle, that looks terrible. Ray looks at me and laughs along, "That's ridiculous, they could've tried a little harder to make the cat look real, and not like a fucking Sesame Street puppet." Ray states, I start laughing even more.   
"Ah I know," I say betweeen giggles.  
  
We go back to watching the movie, nearing the end, I see Ray through my peripheral vision turn to look at me. A little dazed at the movie I ask in a far, drawling voice, "What?"   
"You still talking to that Gerard guy?" He asks, curiousity leaking through his voice. I continue staring at the t.v a little less focused than I was before.   
"Uh yeah, he came over yesterday." I state.   
"Oh." He says, obviously bewildered, most likely about the fact that I actually made an effort to socialize.   
"Yeah." I drawl, then I turn to look at him, "Why do you ask?" I frown  
"I was just curious. Is he an all right guy? I mean, I've heard he is kinda creepy." I continue frowning.   
"He's allright, sorta creepy, but he seems like a good guy." I state in all sincerity.   
"Oh ok. Good." Ray replies, then dropping the subject he turns back towards the movie. Never one to doubt my judge in character he gives me a small smile of reassurance, which I gratefully return.   
  
By the time it's nearing nine, Ray gets up takes his guitar and leaves. My room feels a little emptier. I get up, moving towards my stereo and play The Residents. I lay on my bed, awaiting the jumbled mountain of my pebbled thoughts crumble over me. I lay there for about two hours, envisioning my little mountain, underestatment, when I hear a pebble from the highest side drop. I frown, it sounded quite real, I fold the image from my mind and listen. Over the sound of my music I hear another pebble hit a surface, the surface all though in my thoughts was the ground, was actually my window. I continue frowning, and I make it towards my widow, looking out. Another pebble hits the glass. I open my window and poke my head out.   
  
"'See how she leans her cheek upon her hand. Oh, that I were a glove upon that hand. That I might touch that cheek.'" A voice recites Shakespeare, I frown.   
"Oh dear Frankenstein, might thy hear me speak these words of sincerity, and touch thy heart of dead." I know exactly who that voice belongs to. I laugh in amusement. This is very weird, but I cannot stop laughing at the sheer ludicoursy of it.   
  
I look towards the sound of the voice and see Gerard, all in glory with his raven hair and black jacket.   
  
"Shut it. You are going to wake my parents." I say between my fit of supressed giggles.   
"Will thou let me in thy palace, will thou let me in the heart?" He asks, this guy is really fucking weird.   
"Yes and no." I reply to both questions. "Wait here."   
I creep down my stairs and towards the door.   
  
I open the door to Gerard.   
"Hi." He smirks.


	10. Interactions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> whispered shouted question full of annoyance, amusement, and curiosity. Funny how all those emotions are stirred by the wicked grin of Gerard's

  
 The open door invited the moonlight inside, the glow illuminated the ground and doorway like an outlined road of holy light. The only prominent figure, besides the black sky, was the full moon. Bright and prideful in all it's shining light, putting the stars, and even the sun, to shame. Under the glow of the cool light, Gerard's skin stood out, pale and soft against the dark night. I almost forgot what I was going to say, and the sudden realization made my gut churn in confusion. But of course, being a rational being as I am, I dismissed the feeling much as quick as I received it.   
"What are you doing here?" I asked quickly, a whispered shouted question full of annoyance, amusement, and curiosity. Funny how all those emotions are stirred by the wicked grin of Gerard's, as he responds.   
"I came here to pick you up, and take you with me to a party." He jumps on his heels excitedly, maniac grin shinning in the moonlight, stark and vibrant like the blade of a knife. A little taken aback by his grin, I lean a little further from the door, causing it to open wider. Tonight he looks different, I cannot place it, and it's not because of the way his skin seems to glow, or the way he looks....stunning or even the way his grin gives me a chill of fright. He looks different tonight most likely because of the way he's acting, and of course Gerard being the enigma that he is, it is all a bit expected in a surprising kind of way. Most days he's a walking mystery, sly, sarcastic and even a bit charming, yet tonight, he seems to arouse more curiosity within me, because tonight, he looks like an innocent, excited child. And that said child seems to have taken the idea of inviting me to a play date.   
"What?" I ask, a question etched with curiosity.   
"Frankenstein man, you gotta keep up with me," He whines, words laced with a hint of an endearing quality, "Get ready, come out, and come with me to a party." He insists with a list.   
"I don't like parties." Without thinking, the statement is shot out from my mouth in panic of the awaiting boredom and suffocation of a house full of people.  
"Yeah but I know you like people watching." He states, and as I frown at him he concludes, "and don't give me that look, you know I'm right so don't deny it."   
  
He then takes matters into his own hands, because of course why not, and turns me around, closing the door and pushing my shoulders, until he's leading me up the stairs and towards my room. Once we enter my room, his hands, expected, do not retrieve my form but instead steer me towards my closet.   
"I can walk on my own you know?" I snap in faux annoyance.  
"Sorry Frankie, but I don't trust you not to run away." he says. I frown. He sits, well more like flops, down my bed and waits. I look for some pants, only being in my pajamas, in the closet while The Residents play on.   
"Oh hey this band sounds nice." Gerard comments.   
"They are really fucking great actually." I retort, pulling on some worn out, ripped jeans. All though I could protest to going to the party, which in fact could be quite easy knowing Gerard won't actually force me into anything, I made the decision (honestly not much thought or choice was put in to it) to go. Maybe to alleviate the boredom, but most likely to avoid my thoughts for at least one night.   
"There I'm done, happy?" I snap once again. He looks at me from my bed, gets up without breaking eye contact and stands in front of me.   
"Don't you think you should try a little harder?" He muses, voice leaked with intrigue. Once again I frown.   
"I'm not trying to impress anyone." I retort, maybe just a little offended that he would assume I want to be looked at or even liked by the likes of stupid people.   
"Good," He says, walking towards my door, "Not much is needed to impress anyway." He says quietly, most likely to himself, as an afterthought. I frown, turning off my stereo and the lights.   
  
  
We walk towards where ever the party is in the fresh night. The only noise perceived are the sounds of our footsteps, his loud, stomping almost confident, but quick and swift with excitement. Mine, just resigned shuffles across the pavement, lazy, aloof, steps. My gaze often drifts between Gerard's profile and the moon. I sigh as I stare at the hole punch of white in the sky. There are only few stars out and it never fails to disappoint me even when it is the most expected thing for someone that lives in the city. I hope that maybe one day, I will see a full expanse of stars without any obstacles. I sigh again, this time the sound is noticed by Gerard, as he looks at me with keen eyes, he smiles. A small smile that creases the corner of his eyes. That smile is thus far, the first genuine smile I have received from the creep, and I find myself smiling back at him without any barriers. My heart beats faster and my hands get a little sweaty. I look back at the moon in order to hide the panic I am feeling inside. I do not want to let someone know who I am, not even if that someone seems to know so much about me all ready. I replace the empty truth between Gerard and I with a new barrier. Hopefully a much stronger one.   
  
"Well here we are." Gerard says softly, his voice gently bringing me back from my reverie.   
I look towards the house. One look at all the windows outlined with light, and I can estimate about how many people there are. As we walk towards the door, the sound of a bass pumping through the walls enlightens me with the knowledge of how loud and annoying everything is going to be. I begin to panic a bit, but then Gerard puts a hand on my shoulder, ushering me inside, and I brave it on.   
  
We dodge the crowds successfully, I following Gerard around like a puppy, with a stoic scary face of course. We make it to the kitchen, obviously, to get some drinks. Gerard offers me a red cup filled with beer, I wave it off, he frowns with inquiry.   
"I hate how alcohol makes people look far more disgusting and act far more stupid than usual." I state. He puts the cup back on the table, then on second thought puts his own cup down as well.   
"You don't have to." I say, all though feeling grateful.   
"Nah, my pleasure man. Plus I'd like to remember this as the first night I conquered the beast of Frankenstein and dragged him off towards a party." He smirks, I scoff.   
"Whatever." I say, I look through, who'sever bastard, cupboards in search for something pleasing. I indeed find it. I smirk to Gerard and show him a bottle of wine.   
"I like wine though, the taste gets sweeter with every try, it more nourishes rather than abuses I like to think." I say, as I serve myself and Gerard some. He throws his head back and chuckles.   
"Trust you not to be normal." He states, "Trust you to want wine for the taste and not the buzz." I smirk at him   
  
I walk out of the kitchen towards an almost barren wall, with Gerard following behind. I lean against the wall, take sips of my wine and observe. There's a blonde chick dancing in the living room with a guy most likely her boyfriend. They grind and rut against each other in the most unattractive way, messy hair, flushed lips, and ruddy cheeks tell me that they've most likely finished having sex. Her back thighs lean against his front, and I watch as her boyfriends hands sneak towards her front, gross. Her thighs are lean, muscular even, lightly tanned and shaved meticulously, I wonder how fast she runs. I watch as she turns her head to kiss her boyfriend and I watch them kiss for about three seconds until I get bored. Gross. I sip on my wine and shift my gaze towards a group of guys. They're all huddled up in a circle, laughing and directing their gazes towards some girls sitting on a couch, for a moment I am reminded of a pack of hyenas. Some guy, who I decide to call clown, says something that highly amuses the crowd of dudes as they soon start erupting in laughter, the same guy then claps his hand to a guy next to him, who I nickname rabbit. Rabbit flinches, begins talking but stutters, cheeks red and form hunched over he tries to explain something, Clown isn't having any of it, when he opens his mouth, I can tell something scathing came out for Rabbit hunches over more. While the remaining group of imbeciles laugh, though I can tell one does not find the situation amusing, I call him Coward, as he fakes laughter with his 'friends'. Now I see what the commotion is about, as Clown pushes Rabbit towards the girls, apparently Clown here wants to get Rabbit laid, I have a feeling poor little Rabbit is gay. I look away becoming quite disgusted at how these so called friends interact with one another. Pathetic, I think as I scoff.   
  
Gerard notices. His gaze lands on Rabbit.   
"What?" I ask  
"His name is Eric. Poor kid is having a hard time coming out to his friends. Gave me a blowjob last year, don't remember much about him though." He says the last part mostly to him self. I smirk with satisfaction knowing that I was right.  
"I knew it!" I exclaim excitedly   
"Knew what?" Gerard asks, brows furrowed in confoundment.   
"That that guy was gay." I respond, taking a sip of my wine.   
"Did you not hear the rest of what I said?" He asks this time his words carried of an air of panicked puzzlement. I did indeed hear what he said, back then I probably would have chocked on the air, right now not so much, I sort of saw that coming they day he blew me a kiss, no straight guy, no matter how feminine, does that.   
"Not surprised." I comment, sipping on my wine to hide the smirk that's arising from his offended(?) countenance. He splutters once he notices I'm laughing then looks away.  
  
  
"Hey what are you doing here besides watching me watch people?" I ask Gerard as I stare at a brunette girl standing in a corner with two friends.   
"I'm meeting up with my supplier." He responds nonchalantly. The girl is a bit hunched up, she seems shy, her friends are trying to get her to dance. This is probably her first time at a party.   
"What for drugs?" I ask with an indifferent air as the brunette stares back at me. Her face looks familiar..Oh she's that girl from my science class!  
"No. Something a little bit different from that." He concludes. I'm not gonna ask. One of the girl's friends says something that makes her face flood in crimson.   
"There she is right now. I'll be back later Frankie." Gerard says. He struts towards a chick, who looks familiar, with raven hair and dark red lips. As he stops in front of her, her face breaks with a smirk. She's the girl from the record store.   
  
I drink two gulps from my wine. I go back into the kitchen pour myself some more, then walk back towards the (thankfully) barren wall. I try not to stare at Gerard and his...supplier. But it's hard, I'm curious to see how he interacts with others, having never seen him doing so before. I watch as he, obviously, blatantly flirts with her, reaching towards her hand and touching her shoulder. He's smooth, and most likely getting laid tonight. I see a figure approach me from my peripheral vision.   
"Hey Frank." I turn to look towards the voice. It's the cute brunette, damn I don't know her name. It's a bit rude but I cannot be put against it.   
"Um Hi?..." I drawl out my words until she get's message.   
"Robin." She says quickly, flushing in emberassment, guess she broke the societal rule where you're not supposed to know someone's name when they don't know yours...  
"Hello Robin." I correct myself, not caring much for a conversation, but not wanting to be rude. I watch as the chick from the record store twirls her hair and licks her lips. I quickly shift my gaze towards Robin.  
"What are you drinking?" I ask her. I need to distract myself from something, I don't know what that something is, but I know I don't like it.  
"Umm..Beer." She says a little shyly, okay obviously her first time drinking it. I stare at her, my eyes narrow (it's a habit) as I take in her timid form, hand shakily holding the beer, hazel (beautiful shade) eyes shifting towards her friends, who are blatantly staring at us. They are a stupid influence.   
"Here give me that." I motion towards her beer, not really waiting for a response as I take it from her hands. I walk towards an open window and toss the beer out. Her cheeks redden and her body language closes, sign of wanting to be left alone. God that's terrible.   
"Look," I begin, with a faux gentle voice " Your friends over there are obviously not a good influence." I continue, eyes roaming around the room, "This isn't your usual scenery, and you don't actually like how beer tastes." I proceed, my eyes finally land on Gerard and the supplier, I take a sip of my wine. "Follow my advice and find some real friends. Or you can just stay alone and out of problmes you don't want to be part of." I finally conclude. I watch Gerard as he puts a hand on her waste and whispers into her ear, as she chuckles and leans in close, my jaw tightens. It's a bit gross.   
Robin dismisses my advice and asks, "Is he your friend?" She nods her heads towards Gerard's lean figure. Gerard, who is now making out with his supplier. My jaw tightens even more, I loosen it and drink three gulps from my wine until it's finished.   
"No." I reply quickly. She senses something, I don't know what, but I'm glad for it, because she leaves me and walks back to her 'friends'.   
  
I need a smoke. I go out to the front yard and light up a cigarette. I really fucking hate parties. The people are annoying, the music is annoying, the entertainment is unamusing. God but the people, they are so..infuriating. I might just go home. I stare up at the few stars, the fog of my smoke blurring them as I blow up. I let out an exhausted sigh. I continue staring at the sky, even as I hear people stumble on the balcony, fall or laugh. I continue to look up because I don't want to see people. I hear a girl giggle, and I hear a familiar chuckle, both pairs of feet stumbling, the steps of one of the figure sounds familiar, confident and loud. I look behind me.   
"Hey Frankie." Gerard greets me excitedly. His grin cutting and brazen. Mouth smeared with red lipstick. I look back towards the sky. I take a long puff of my cigarette.   
"Hey." I say as I blow out. He sits down next to me on the stairs, the girl staying behind us, waiting.   
"You got a spare one?" Gerard asks, his body heat leaking next to mine. He smells gross, sweat laced with sweet flowery perfume.  
"No." That's a lie. I don't know why I felt it necessary to lie but It felt good.   
"Oh." He says, voice a little put down, I don't stare at him.   
"Look," He starts, I sigh in annoyance, "I'm gonna go, um take care of some business," I scoff and look at him, his face looks offended and I smirk to make him think I'm not mad, because I'm not. "But I'll be back later okay?" He concludes, eyes a little confused.   
"I might just go home man, so many people, so sick of them all." I reply.   
"I won't take long." He says quickly. I laugh, I bet you won't.   
"Yeah sure. Fine, I'll wait." I say, I don't know why. Maybe it's because I don't know where I am, and I need to find my way home. Paltry excuse, I know, but I don't really know where I stand anymore. Gerard smiles at me. Gross.   
"Ok be back later Frankenstein." He says about to stand up, I hold on to his jacket sleeve and he stays. I take my half finished cigarette out from my mouth and motion it towards him, he leans closer and I place it between his lips.   
"For courage." I say, smirking, and I see him gratefully puff the cigarette.   
"Yeah." He drawls, as a small, even timid, smile crawls over his face.   
  
Gerard puts an arm around his supplier's waist. And I watch as both forms retrieve into the darkness of the shaded neighborhood. I sigh, I fucking hate waiting.


	11. My Mush of Emotions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how to feel. I don't know what to do.

I sit there on the strairs, waiting for what seems like a century. I contemplate about philosophy, lulling into deep thought, that is interrupted incessantly by the noises of the party. I find myself feeling tired, and the thought of sleeping on these steps doesn't seem that unappealing. My body begins to get cold, goosebumps scattering my skin, making me wish I had brought a sweater. I curl up a bit in a ball, leaning towards the wooden balcony, and close my eyes. I review all the observations I made tonight about people. They all haven't changed, not even assuming that I know them, I can tell they're all quite a bit raw, stupid. I was told some time ago, by a pompous adult, that teenagers cannot be philosophers. I scoffed at his words, the audicity in the action caused him to back down, appearantly no 'kid'(as he called us) has ever questioned him. All though I do enjoy debating, I do not like debating with people who are fools, simply because they know not what they speak of, though their words may be labored with pride, they lack knowledge. I tend to have debates only inside my mind, as ridiculous as that notion is, I have yet to find some one who I can debate with.   
  
I do believe there are some fortunate teenagers out there (whom I have, unfortunately never met) that can be philosophers. Despite the fact that they are young, and biased due to that gland (that I forgot the name of) which causes them to make irrational decisions. Seeing as philospher, came from the word philosophies, meaning lovers of knowledge, anyone who thrives for knowledge could be a philosopher as well as a teenager. Now philosopher, meaning theorists, doesn't in fact mean you must be any kind of proffessional, it just means that one is someone who makes a lot of conclusions based upon facts and evidence. People should often check the diction of words before connotating them into something, moronic.   
  
I open my eyes once again and look ahead. I look for Gerard. I have a nagging feeling that he will not be coming back, but I also have that clinging hope that has me seated where I am now. I don't understand why I trust him to come back, I don't understand why I trust him when I am always supicious of people. I am elevated by my curiousity towards this guy, and grounded by my own distrust, yet I hold on to small red balloon that fills with hope whenever he gives me genuine smiles. I do not understand these conflicting feelings, and I don't want to. All I can feel right now, is my chilling body, and that swell of panic and shame settiling deep inside my stomach, whenever I think of Gerard not coming back.   
  
I curl up more and close my eyes. This time my thoughts are derailed by the heavy compress of sleep. The visage of a thick chain appears in my dream. Rusty, black, threatning. It's all curled up, skewed and messy on the floor. I have no idea what to think of it. Amongst all the chains there is a key, pure and untouched, glistening in the dark. I look around, not seeing myself in the dream, and follow a trail of the chain leading to a lock, dark and bold, yet like the key untouched. As I am about to walk towards the key, I feel the presence of an outer force shake my shoulder, rousing me from sleep. My eyes open on their own accord, waiting till the haze of my dream to leave my mind. Still foggy around the edges, I shake my head and look up at the force that touched me. It's Gerard. He is similing kindly, almost tauntingly at my curled up form. I scowl. I get up and brush my legs in attempt to shake of any feelings I have felt before.   
  
"Take me home." I demand, voice slurred by my fatigue. Gerard smirks.   
"Wait." He says, he sprints inside the house then comes back out with a black sweater. He shakes it in my face then hands it to me. I clutch it in intrigue.   
"Should've brought a sweater." He states, then leads me towards the sidewalk.   
"Is this yours?" I ask, still not wanting to wear it.   
"No, I took if from the closet, I'll give it back later." He states cooly as if taking sweaters from random people isn't weird at all. Without further question I put on the sweater. Alltough there are other lovely ways to die, hypothermia is not one of them. I look towards his figure, and I am filled with gratitude that he did not lend me his jacket, that would of been awfully weird, and uncomfortable, I do not like jackets, much less leather jackets.   
  
We walk towards my house in heavy silence. Not really feeling the need nor the energy to talk, I look towards Gerard and give him a glance of reassurance. He doesn't smell like perfume anymore, which is weird considering he obviously banged the chick. His neck is barren of lovebites, but maybe they are only imperceptible due to the lack of lighting. His cheeks are a bit red, but not enough to state that he has sweated or blushed under the heat, I'd imagine, of sex. His mouth is the same pale pink color, not swollen nor red, so obviously they did not kiss. I find that weird, I've heard of it before though, no kissing during sex. How can one consider a kiss to be far more intamite then sex? I don't get it. Sex is far more intimate than kissing, so I persume. People are complicated. We near toward my house. Gerard leans into me and hands me an apple. I turn it around in my hands, a yellow green small little apple with blossoms of blushed red. It looks interesting I stuff it in the sweaters pockets, then keep my hands inside as we walk towards my balcony.  
  
"It's called an Adanac apple." He declares as we walk up my stairs. Once I'm near the door I turn around to face him.   
"Did you wash your hands?" I blurt out, thinking about the apple he gave me. It would be very gross touching an apple that was held by the hands of a guy who had sex. Hands most likely sweaty and clammy, roaming and touching, groping and carressing the female. Pulling, pushing, holding his genitals, touching her parts. A sudden clump of anger and disgust swells in my stomach. I feel it rise in my throat like a thick fog, I swallow, jaw tightening in response.   
"Of course, Dirty bussiness is dirty bussiness. Must be washed off afterwords." He says nonchalantly. I glare at him.   
"Don't say it like that, you just fucked a chick, it's not like you didn't enjoy. Maybe she deserves a little bit off respect seeing as she obviously got you off." I have no idea where that came from. The anger pulstates inside me. I'm being so irrational. Gerard's eyes widen in suprise. I glare hard at him, eyes roaming towards his body, clothes unrumpled, neat even, towards his hair, which contains the usual muss, not sex hair then. I look at his neck, now having the light to detect any hickies, it's barren. I glare at his neck even harder, eyes squinting for evidence. I almost missed it, the mark being so undetectable in the dark but there it is. A red splotch, of something I don't know yet, on the dent where his jawline meets his neck. It was almost impreceptible by his raven hair that covered it. My eyes quickly shift up towards his face, fearing being caught staring. Gerard is still staring at me, still quiet as if not knowing what to say. I stop glaring, overfilled with fatigue.   
  
We continue to look at each other, for seconds, minutes even, the silence eating at us, compressing. Then Gerard takes a step towards me. My heart pounds, I begin to panic. His gaze looms over me, eyes looking down in, concentration, in something I don't know. I know that he will take another step, yet it still takes me by suprise as he does, I jump in startlement. My little heart hammers against my ribs, begging for realease of the supressment. Gerard's so close to me, so close I can feel his breath whisper over my lips, not smelling like anything of sex. A sudden wind tickles our hair and I feel Gerard's raven locks brush up against my cheek. He's too close. He doesn't smell like perfume, he smells of something darker. Amongst all the scents of tabacco, wine and apples, that his figure emits, a scent laced in iron dominates the smell. Iron, why iron? Gerard leans down, and a feeling within my gut clenches and I fear I know what he is going to do. I gasp, as if in pain, and clench my eyes closed. My breathing is labored in fright, in anticipation. Finally, in a sense of rationality, I break away from the feeling, quickly turning around to unlock my door.   
  
"I have to go." I blurt out amongst my heavy breathing. Eyes staring at Gerard in panic, not daring to look any longer I get inside my house, and close the door on Gerard. My heart still pounds away, like a vicious drum, it pulstates within the supressed atmosphere of whatever that was. My breathing calms down as I walk towards my room. And as I enter, my heart ceases to pound viciously. I collapse on my bed and close my eyes.   
  
I have no idea what that was, I try to fool myself. I know exactly what that was, I didn't want it to happen. I try to avoid the thought, it's terribly hard. I don't know what I am experiencing, but I do know. I try not to think. That being impossible, I end up thinking of Gerard's lips, then replacing my thoughts to the red splotch on his neck. It was dark, and most defintely not a hickie. His lips looked so delicate, untouched in the night despite the fact he made out with that chick. And that smell, that iron smell, what was it from? My thoughts layer and stack over each other haphazardly. I cannot control them, I cannot control this.   
  
I have a night full of restless sleep, and amongst my fidgeting, tossing and turning I hear Gerard's sly voice utter in the dark.   
  
  
"I'd like to remember this as the first night I conquered the beast of Frakenstein ."


	12. Cocoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course, fear is a weakness, even as a child I possessed that belief, and I soon exceeded it (As I often do with everything else).

  
 Waking up with headaches is possibly the worst thing one can wake up with, regarding certain circumstances. It is not a headache caused from the consumption of copious amount of alcohol, but the dull pulse that resonates through out a night of restlessness caused by intrusive thoughts. I lay in the silent morning, warm light seeping through my curtains, illuminating my room. I feel calm, despite the throbbing of my head, I relish the vacancy of my thoughts, who are still persistent, but muted by the numb atmosphere of my cozy room. My breathing is shallow, my thoughts are hollow, the morning is much like a bright shining day after a rupturing storm. I don't know how long I lie there, cocooned in my sheets, but the feeling of laziness starts to bore me and I soon get up. I come outside my room with last night's clothes on, rumpled and skewed. Walking to the kitchen, the sound of something frying echoes and I am encompassed with the salty smell of cooking eggs.  
"Hey baby." My mom says, addressing me with a bright smile, then returning to hunch over the pan with utmost concentration. I smile at her, my heart thuds with a longing and knowledge that only comes from not seeing her for what feels like ages.   
"Hi mom." I reply quietly. I crowd inside my small kitchen and start preparing myself some coffee, looking towards my mom's empty coffee mug, I decide to prepare her some more.   
"Have fun last night?" She asks,glancing towards my rumpled clothing, a question laced with genuine curiosity, not a note of sternness or anger that one would receive from sneaking out.   
"I guess." I reply absentmindedly stirring both our coffees. Finished with frying the eggs, my mom turns the stove up and gathers the eggs on a plate, "You don't want any right?" She asks, all ready knowing the answer but just making sure.   
"No." I reply, sitting on in front of her, our small table crowded with newspaper. She eats in silence, I sip my coffee in tranquility.   
  
After we're both finished I wash our plates.   
"I'm gonna go work in five hours, you wanna go anywhere?" She asks  
"Um sure, where?"   
"I don't know where ever you want to go."   
"I don't care."   
"Ok then, get ready, or something."   
  
I obey, going to the bathroom and carrying out ordinary habits. Coming back down, I sit in the cozy couch and wait for my mom. She comes down in ten minutes and we head out.   
  
The dull humming of the wheels treading the road resonates from under us. The warm sun encompasses us in heat and I roll down the window to let the breeze of the ride invade the car. Getting bored of the silence, as I often get bored with everything else, I turn on the radio, with no particular station in mind. The radio buzzes due to the lack of signal, every now and then the snake of static slithers on the radio, cutting between sentences. My mom drives closer to the city, and finally the snake disappears into the oblivion of signal.   
"-The murders of the Tri-state area of obviously common, serial killers only exist in shows or books, these are obviously just random killings-"  
"No but can't you see the pattern? Jerry it's quite obvious only an idiot would miss it."  
"Please guys," A manly chuckle hums in the radio "Excuse Andrew, he's an enthusiast, he just wants to alarm you guys."   
  
I roll my eyes at the petty excuse for a debate on the radio. I suddenly wish that snake would slither back and mute these idiots. Murder is ordinary.   
  
"-Ok! so what if it is some sort of serial-killing maniac?" The exasperated voice, Jerry, exclaims, "The cops will obviously find this poor idiot."   
"BUT THE PATTERNS!" A voice cuts through, followed by various chuckles in the background, most likely that Jerry idiot and co.   
"Ok fine, tell us that damn pattern." The chuckles continue.   
"Ok well first of all, it's in the tri-state area, the murders started in Jers-----"  
  
I turn off the radio in annoyance. Mom turns her head from the road to give me a curious frown.   
"Murder is common, especially in Jersey, these idiots don't know what they're talking about." I explain, I tap on the window to evade the silence from engulfing the car. My mother smirks at me with affection leaking out of her eyes, "People are idiots, don't mind them." She chuckles. I smile at her. The car parks at the mall. We get out and enter the world of fashion.   
  
To be frank, I hate the mall. Everything about it. Yet, I don't complain because I'm here with my mom, haven't seen her in a long time and I don't wish to spoil the day. I find everything about the mall unbearable, the bright lights scorching my eyes, the cold air conditioning making them water. The annoying people, loud and stupid, walking about buying unecessary, expensive things, prancing with their snotty postures, noses in the air. Most of all though, I hate the stores, so advertised, over- fashioned, makes me feel sick, how we live in luxury. Buying expensive trash while other people starve and live in shit on other countries. How these stores sell shirts for fifty dollars, when in other places people would die for a buck. The company owners rich and selfish in their own greed, rotting with the trash they call money. How these stores burn clothing rather than donating it to the poor for fear of appearance. It makes me sick. I swallow a lump as I pass a perfume stand with my mom, and try to stop thinking.   
  
It's incredibly hard, but for once, my brain obliges with my needs.   
  
We walk store to store, my mom buying things for herself, (knowing I don't want anything) then in two hours (dreadfully boring hours) we retrieve back to the car. I don't really care where we're going, but I might as well suggest an idea before we go somewhere else dreadfully boring.   
"Can we go to the park?" I ask, a hopeful tone lifting the question. I love the park. My mom starts the car, the engine rumbling to life, like a horse who snorts before the start of a race. She looks towards at me and smiles.   
"Sure honey." She drives towards the park. We stop by an ice cream shop.   
  
  
In the park, we sit on a wooden bench, scarred with shavings of names, shapes, the usual Jane + Harry shit. Some parts of the bench though, are covered in beautiful sharpie art, making me wonder who drew them and why. I glance around and see the occasional shaved portrait of a person, it makes me think of Gerard. I take a bite of my ice cream and swallow around the lump of the cold. I glance around the bench once more, then opt to stare up ahead. The slight, warm breeze plays with our hair, and we sit in a warm silence, that is interrupted every once in a while by the chirp of a bird, or the caw of a crow, the giggles of children or the wails of a baby. It makes me hate life a little bit less. Leaves fall from the ancient trees, showering us in the colors of October. I pluck the ones that fall on my mom's hair and play with them, ripping them to slowly to shreds.   
I sigh, " Wish I could be a pirate." I state. My mom chuckles, "Wish I wouldn't have to grow old." She gives a somber smile at her reply.   
"It's a little to late for that, don't you think?" I tease her.   
"Aww you little devil, when I die, I want you to-"  
I cut her off, "Yeah, yeah I know. Cremate you to ashes and scatter them over the sea." She smiles at me, often one would feel dejection upon hearing their moms talk about their inevitable deaths, I on the other hand embrace it, accept it. I would not wish for her to suffer an eternity on earth, this world is just made to make one suffer.   
I drape an arm over her shoulder.   
  
"So who's that _friend_ that recited shakespeare to you last night?" My mom asks, the curious question leaked with mockery a mother possesses when they talk about their child's (nonexistent) love life. If the way she said friend was anything to go by..I wrinkle my nose and laugh.   
"I don't really know. He's weird, met him at school. Only person so far that isn't an idiot besides Ray."   
"I should meet him some time." I snort "Mom, it's not like that, dude trust me." She glares at me, well more at the use of the pronoun.   
"Frankie.." She whines.   
"Mom." I mock   
She stays quiet for a contemplative silence, then-"You wan't condoms?" She asks abruptly. I choke on my ice cream.   
"Mom you know I-"  
"I don't believe that, I'm asexual bullshit." She cuts me off. I sigh, no one does.   
"Maybe later.." I say, she stares at me, knows I'm lying.   
  
We finish our ice creams and stay a while longer. I watch as the children rock on the swings. I use to be afraid of them. I remember as a child, I once held that curiosity to try everything amongst the playground (setting has changed, feeling hasn't) one of them was the swings, I asked my mom to help me climb the seat and push me, as I have often observed other parents do to their kids. She was reluctant, but conceeded, at first I liked how it felt, being gently pushed, the breeze flying past me, I asked her to push me harder, she did. I thought I was going to fall, my heart accelerated and my palms started sweating, no matter how prideful I was even as a child (even more so now) I begged her to stop. She stopped, I climbed down from the seat and never touched the swings, well until age six that is. The was the last thing I remember being afraid of, even until now. Barophobia, fear of falling.   
  
Of course, fear is a weakness, even as a child I possessed that belief, and I soon exceeded it (As I often do with everything else).   
  
I waited a year, playing in the park and not nearing the swings. I took me some time, but the day I swung again, I was alone. A six year old with a new sense of pride, ditched his friends to once again try to fly. He sat on the seat, pushed his legs, following the pattern of kicks he often sees children perform, to reach the right height. Higher, and higher, he swung, and he felt the air, and for once he did not feel his body, he felt his mind, eloping and flying, towards the vast ocean blue of sky.   
  
I smile at the memory. I really wish I could fly. My mother looks at me and smiles.   
  
We leave the park, our arms weaved together. She starts the park and drives us home. 


	13. Tyrant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> corrupt teachers are the worst and they do exist

The weekend felt quite short, despite all the things that have occurred. So it is only logical that when I arrive to school,I feel like shit. Of course Monday being Monday, it brings a brooding air of tragedies that promise agony and everything above and below that line of pain. As evidence, I arrive to school late, lacking coffee in my system. Thus that is enough proof that I shall not be having a dandy day. My classes pass in a blur, seeing as I fell asleep in most of them, luckily, as I am a teacher's pet, I did not arise attention from my teachers. Well except for that beast that believes herself to be a human teacher in history and that annoying, insolent prick that thinks my guitar skills are unworthy.   
  
The only constant thing I remember in every class was the relentless, droning chatter emitting from my peers' lips. Another thing I remember that I shall refuse to acknowledge and analyze any further than necessary, are my trips down the hallways from class to class, eyes glancing imperceptibly about for a familiar pale face. The action was of course, mere curiosity. Still, my findings have proved to be unsuccessful.   
  
So it is only when I'm walking towards my usual spot in lunch that I accept that the owner of that familiar, pale face is absent. I slide down the wall and light up a cigarette, the smoke clinging to my clothes just like that discovered feeling of absence clings to the air. It is sort of mortifying how accustomed I have grown to his presence, that the realization makes me cough, just a bit, on the ash of my cigarette. As I splutter and choke embarrassingly so, a familiar voice leaps out from the intervals of silence, like a preying lion, between the sounds of my coughing.   
"Those can't be good for you." The voice comments, a voice that I indeed despise.   
  
I trap the resounding chokes behind the cage of my mouth, throat convulsing and tensing around the puffs of breath imprisoned behind my teeth. Eyes watering, I glance up at the owner of the familiar voice. As much as I can with watering eyes, I glare.   
"Yeah well." I reply, not sure knowing how to reply when one is caught smoking by a school faculty.   
"You know, this broken rule would cause you school suspension and three weeks of detention.." The voice drawls, the owner himself stretches, sighs after the release of clenching muscles, and slowly slides down the wall, sitting next to me. Uninvited.   
"And yet, I have neither." I shoot out, annoyed.   
"Ah but you didn't let me finish." he replies, voice lifted in pitch from the tone of condescension. I nod my head at him, demanding him to continue.   
"If you'd been listening, as you evidently haven't, you'd know that our annual guitar festival event is coming up next month. And if you'd like to, than you could participate and perhaps play an accompaniment with a peer of yours."   
I stare at him, incredulously, is this bastard really going to ask me a favor when he finds my guitar playing terrible?   
"What." I say, ineloquently and baffled. Then," I don't want to be part of this festival."   
"Then I suppose you'll take the suspension and detentions." He replies quickly, voice threatening and sharp like a lightning bolt. I stare, this bastard. My god, who would've thought.   
I narrow my eyes, tilting my head.   
"What song?" I ask, eyes narrowed. My gaze roams over the parking lot, I light up another cigarette.   
He opens his mouth, letting a gasp of air within, and pauses, staring at me. Obviously at shock. Then he starts, now assured that I've agreed to his little offer, "Black Bird." He firmly states.  
A groan drawls from my mouth, smoke clinging to the noise.   
"Ok why me? You hate the things I play so why are you crawling over here, asking me for a favor when you can ask your little pet Tommy." I snap, appalled at such a terrible offer of a song, my guitar skills may not be great but I do not play sell out classic travesties.   
"I'm not asking a favor." He glares, "Tommy is transferring schools." He says as an explanation.   
"I can't sing so I'm choosing who is going to." I say.   
  
He stretches out his legs, sighs and gets up.   
"Deal." He snaps, then walks away. Leaving me alone, fuming with annoyance and disgust.   
  
My mood is sour for the rest of the day.   
  
  
It is only as I walk towards my home, that my mood is wiped away. There's a little surprise perched on the steps of my porch, waiting.   
  
  



	14. Raw Emotions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have that dream again, with the fog

I walk towards my porch, pace slow and relaxed as my tensed muscles begin to unknot. Emotions from before replaced by curiousity, confusioun and delight. The figure waiting for me has the familiar pale face I have been looking for all day. He is currently hunched over my stairs, smirking with a sense of pride that slightly resembles one of a feline's. "How long have you been sitting there?" I ask. Walking up the stairs, I unlock my door waiting for a reply. "I dunno, two, three hours or so." Opening the door, I walk inside as Gerard follows from behind. "Wow, that eager huh?" I ask, finally looking at him, his face currently brands a purple bruise under his left eye. I do not question it's existance as I make my way towards the kitchen to get drinks. I don't get a reply, I walk towards the living room, which is vacant of Gerard's presence, I asume the obvious and walk towards my room. "I swear, I feel like I'm letting in a stray cat, which is in fact injured." I enter the room, talking to myself making sure I'm loud enough to be heard. "Anyways where were you today?" I ask him, plopping down my bed next to Gerard. His eyes are closed and his breathing is languid, "Had to take care of some business, hmm." He sighs, stretching his arms, then mumbles, "Not important." I snort, as if he had a business anyways, dude probably doesn't even have a job. "Right," comes out a sarcastic reply, "Is that bruise the result of your business?" "Maybe.." He pouts, eyes still closed. We stay silent for a while, both of us tired. Most likely for different reasons. We fall asleep. I have that dream again, with the fog. Yet this time it's accompanied with the acrid smell of iron, and it lingers in the air no matter how far I walk. As I walk further it becomes more prominent, more demanding. And I get that feeling that someone, something is watching me. And my heart begins to beat faster in panic. I let my feet carry me faster across a surface I cannot see. And all the while I get that sixth sense that's telling me I'm being followed. And for once in my life I am afraid; I am afraid as my heart begins to hammer erratically against the walls of my ribs, producing a sound that resembles the ringing of alarm bells. And I start to prespire in panic, and my breath quickens and shortens with the pace of hyteria. And oh god, the smell, I can feel it curling down the pit of my stomach, arising acid that's begging to be released. My throat tightens, but I can't vomit because I can't stop running. The sounds, the images, the senses, wreck havoc in my mind, and I can't stop it. They flicker frantically, like thin pages of a book against a harsh wind, and I can't stop them. The adrenaline makes my head fuzzy, and I feel like dying. Like something inside me is clawing outside and it hurts, my head hurts, and my stomach clenches and my throat tightens, and then I can't breath anymore. I gasp out, as if in pain, when a hand lays down on my chest. My heart fluttering in fear. I open my eyes, awaiting the worst, but all I see is that familiar pale face with eyebrows twisted in concern. I close my eyes and inhale deeply, the feeling of shame wrapping it's hands around my heart, squeezing. The hammering of my heart beat in the background begins to fade, and it descends with the piercing sound of silence. The silence seems to screech in my ears, and I breath in deeply, calming down, that is until I catch a scent of iron. My eyes wrench open, and I recoil away from the hand on my chest and fling out of my bed. "What is that smell?" I yell in panic, my voice cracks. I look around the room, my eyes landing anywhere but on Gerard's face. Anything in order to avoid seeing his look of concern. "What smell?" He asks tentatively. "That smell! That iron!" I yell, pacing around my room. My breath catches, "That blood." my voice gasps out, the words coming out gently, broken. I feel pathetic it was just a nightmare, yet here I am, raging on in panic as that feeling of danger lingers around my body. "Ah shit Frankie man, look calm down." Gerard pleads getting up from my bed. I finally look at him, his features are a bit hazy,so I must have woken him up. At some point he must have taken off his leather jacket because he is dressed in a misfit shirt. I look at his shirt, and then I see it, a leak of liquid, tainting his black shirt with a darker spot. I walk towards him, eyes wide and inquiring. My hands drift down his shirt, and I gingerly lift it up. "What.." I say, voice soft, "Happened?" His stomach is pale, flat with taut abdominale muscles, but that's not what stuns me. What stuns me is the slash of a raw stab wound staining his white skin. It's crimson and jagged and it looks like a small black void cutting a gap between the expanse of white. "Oh, I got in a fight." He explains. I pull my hands away. "Is that why you weren't here today?" I ask, for some reason angry, when not so long ago I was afraid. "Because you had to go get in a fight, claiming it was business?" I pace around my room, "You could have been killed. How stupid must you be to pick of fight with someone who has a blade?" I rant on, infuriated, "You left me alone while I got harrassed by stupid fucking Perez, just so you can get in a fight!?" I screech, I don't know what's going on but my heart clenches and I pace erratically, apearantly letting out all the rage I've been holding in. "Wait." Gerard says, coming around me, placing his hands on my shoulders heavily, preventing me from moving. My breath comes out in quick angry puffs and I glare at him with all the infuriation I can muster. "What do you mean you got harassed?" He asks. I exhale loudly, and close my eyes, all ready feeling exhausted for displaying such emotions. My head nods forward, landing on Gerard's shoulders. I feel drained. "Fucking Perez caught me smoking, threatened me with detention, then offered me a deal in which I participate in the coming festival to get out of the discipline." I rub my forehead over his shoulder, smelling apples. I focus on the apples instead of blood. "That prick, hmm who would've known." He muses. "I know right? Asshole, anyways he's making me play black bird. Which is ridiculus seeing as he always tries to shoot me down for my "lack of skills" on guitar." I breath his scent in. "I have to play it with some one who can sing, but I don't know anyone who can. And man, I really fucking hate the beatles." I whine. He chuckles. His hands move from around my shoulders and land on my back, he begins to rub across it soothingly. All the conflicting feelings have vanished, in my chest there is only the soothing fluttering of my elevated heart beat. I raise my head up, eyes glazed with fatigue as they stare into Gerard's. I never took time to notice his eyes, but as I stare at them now, they are the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen, warm and golden like honey. I clear my throat and take a step away from him, his hands drop and he glances away for a second. "You are going to shower and after I am going to try to clean that wound up as best as I can, seeing as I'm not a fucking doctor." I tell him, pushing him towards the bathroom and handing him a towel. "I swear to god just like a fucking cat." I grunt in annoyance for finding the resemblance endearing. I walk back towards my room and plop on my bed. The shower turns on. I wait for an hour, glancing out my window, watching as the clouds in the sky accumilate and become grey. Hope it rains. I hear a cough and I look towards the open door. My breath sort of hitches, in shock of course. Then again I didn't expect much, I muse as Gerard walks towards me towel wrapped around his hips. I get up from my bed, retrieving the items I need from the bathroom. Walking back, I stop in front of Gerard and begin to clean out his wound. My usually rough hands, clean out the wound in gentle strokes. I can sense being watched and I look up as Gerard stares down at me, my hands pause. I swallow with hesitation, then proceed to clean him up. As I put on a gauze pad on his wound, my eyes drift up to his chest, analyzing the various bruise marks on his lilly white skin. Some look faded, others are fresh. "You should be careful." I say staring into his eyes. "Okay." Comes a confident reply. It's obviously a lie. When Gerard leaves, with a smirk and a pat in the back, I feel disgruntled and worried, as I watch his figure descend towards the rain.


	15. An Apple I Gave Thee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am filled with a warmth that is not produced by the light, nor the soft breeze, nor the tranquility of the day.

An apple is thrown into the air. Golden skin shimmering under the autumn sun, as a rustle of leaves brush against my feet. My hands reach out as gravity impedes the apple's flight, and soon, my palms are wrapped around a small, golden sphere.   
"It's called a Grimes Golden Apple." Gerard's voice reaches towards my ears, as he walks towards the brick wall we share. I spare him a glance, maybe two, but my eyes return towards the apple,as my palms turn it around, enticed. He sits down next to me, stretching his long legs and opening an empty sketching pad.   
"This apple reminds me of a fairy tale." I tell him, bouncing the apple in my palms, "Actually it's even called a grime which makes me think of Grimm." I giggle.   
"Is that so?" Gerard raises his eyebrow at me, smirking as he begins to take out pencils from his pockets.  
"Yup." I reply absent-mindedly.   
"Well then, tell me about it." Gerard demands, his pale fingers take a hold of his pencil.   
"It's a bit irrelevant. The plot everything about the tale is a bit skewed. In the end it doesn't even pertain to the apples." He hums in acknowledgment, pencil scratching against the fresh sheet of paper.   
"By the Grimm Brothers right?" He asks, eyes glancing at me.   
"Yeah." I smile.   
"Come on, tell me about it." He urges. I sigh in resignation, "Fine." . The breeze surrounding us picks up force, blowing a crown of strayed raven hair on Gerard's head.   
  
"So, there's this king, that has a golden apple tree. And every year, he notices that he is being robbed of apples during the night. So he sends out each of his sons, on different nights, to stay awake in order to find out who is stealing his apples. The eldest fell asleep, while the youngest son stays awake, whom then sees a golden bird take an apple, whom he shoots an arrow at but only comes out with a frayed golden feather." I pause, glancing a Gerard who stares at me with keen eyes and a warm smile.   
  
"He presents his father with the golden arrow, who then tells him he will need the entire bird due to it's fortune. He sends the eldest sons, each at different times, to go out in search for the bird. The first one comes across a fox, that tells him there will be two inns: one beautiful, the other shaggy. The fox tells him to go to the saggy one,where he will find the bird. But the boy ignores him and goes to the other inn. The second does that same. The youngest, follows the fox's advice and finds the golden bird in the shaggy in. Before entering the fox tells him to take the bird in the wooden, worn down cage, rather than the golden one. The boy ignores him and takes the bird in the golden cage, where there are three apples placed. The bird cries out and the boy is arrested."   
  
The wind blows around us and a rustle of leaves fall from a tree, one landing on Gerard's hair. I chuckle as he continues to draw out jagged lines on the paper, oblivious. As I reach over to pluck the leaf from his hair, his hand pauses and his eyes widen a bit in attention. After pulling the leaf out, he resumes.   
  
"Anyways," I continue, clearing my throat, "After being imprisoned he is told to find a golden horse to spare his life. The fox tells him to take the wooden saddle rather than the golden one. The boy once again, refuses him and takes the golden saddle. After being captured again, the boy is told to find a princess. The fox advises him not to let her say farewell to her parents. He tries to ignore him but, the princess' wailing dissuades him. And he is soon captured again."   
  
Gerard chuckles, "You were right, totally irrelevant." I smile  
  
"Anyways the parents tell him to remove a hill in order to take the princess. He does so with the help from the fox. He then takes his leave with the horse, bird and princess. The fox asks him to kill him, but the boy refuses. So the fox says not to rest near rivers nor past through gallows. As the boy heads towards his home he finds his brother about to be hanged in the inns. He rescues them and they rest by the river. His brothers drown him take his things and head home, where they are soon arrested once the young boy returns. The fox begs to be killed by the boy so the boy complies, and then the fox converts into a human who was the princess' long lost brother. The end."   
  
I turn towards Gerard who is still sketching, noticing me he pauses and claps. I chuckle.   
  
"Fairy tales are weird man." He says, "Anyways, it was nice hearing it from you," He pauses, "What was the theme?" He asks.   
"Listen to foxes!" I yell out, we laugh.   
  
"So are you gonna eat that apple or what?" He asks, watching me as I continue to play with it. I stare at him, "Maybe...Have you poisoned it?" I tease  
"Only with love." He drags the word out. I laugh, my cheeks warming.   
  
We stay silent for a few moments as the trees begin to shed more leaves. The breeze whistles and Gerard's pencil continues to scratch out lines on the page. The warm light bathes Gerard in a golden hue. His raven hair dances in the wind, across the page as his head bows down, shining blue against the sun. His hands continue to skim across the surface of white, but I cannot see due to his head obscuring my view. His eyelashes brush against his high cheeks, flickering from golden brown to black as he blinks against the light. I am filled with a warmth that is not produced by the light, nor the soft breeze, nor the tranquility of the day. It's a different, type of heat, a new one that curls and uncurls, a crescendo that decreases, like a waning light glimmering under the confines of a blanket.   
  
I take a bite out of the apple for the first time.   
  
The crunch is crisp and loud, the juice splatters against my lips. The taste is so sweet that my tongue begins to lap out the remnants of the liquid from my lips and my fingers eagerly. I continue to eat the fruit in delight, my tongue sucking the juice that lingers on it. Not knowing when I closed my eyes, I open them and am greeted with Gerard's smug smirk.   
  
"Wow.." He says, smirk gone and eyes staring with astonishment that I no longer know whether it's faux or not. "You've been deprived."   
"Shut it." I reply around mouthfuls, "I've never tasted an apple so fucking delicious."   
  
The bell rings. Gerard rips the paper out of his pad and hands it to me. He gets up and with a last smile says, "See you around Frankie boy."   
I stay in the same place and continue to eat the apple. I look at the paper Gerard handed me, and stop mid bite. I stare at the paper, and find myself being stared back at with my eyes. He drew me, and I don't know why it's so astonishing, laying next to a willow tree, with my thoughts spread out all over the page, and next to me there's three apples. I grin splits my face, and it stays there as I go back inside the school. And as I lay in my bed at night.   
  
  
  
  



	16. Someone Old, Something New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard who is usually so far from my comprehension, always full of his own jokes.

The autumn leaves scrape across the sidewalk, surreptitiously shying away from the cold wind. It’s nearing Halloween, my birthday, and the wind has been rising in tunes of jubilant crescendos. Every night the lanky branches of the trees near my bedroom, have tapped their thin, barbed fingers across the surface of my window.

The spindly trees have precipitated their monochrome leaves. Showering the streets with a symphony of reds. The rain did not relent until the streets were coated with the corpses of the leaves. Every footstep that treads the ground has landed with a crisp crunch, echoing the memory of something that use to be alive.

As I walk through the streets, earth serenades me. With a cold, gentle hand the wind caresses my cheeks, whistling in my ears. The leaves brush against my clothes, rustling and cracking beneath my feet. The morning’s sunrise flashes in my eyes. My lips curl into a smile against the sun.

Monday mornings have never felt any better.

Upon nearing the school’s front entrance, I remain content. Unfazed by the atmosphere, I enter the school with my usual apathetic grace.

The air conditioner is still vilely cold, scratching at my skin. And the lights are still a rotten yellow that scorch my eyes. However, upon conjuring a new perspective for the day, everything seems different.

A week has passed and this evening I shall be performing for the school’s annual music festival. Upon my reluctance to find a signer to accompany my guitar Gerard has offered to sing for me. Much to my surprise, yet simultaneous expectation to his character, he has a very talented voice. Despite the fact that it is not the best nor the most beautiful voice I have heard (And that I do confess rather frankly) he makes up for it through his raw presentation of tones.

The capacity at which he can modify his silky, nasal, voice to a lower octave is, in better words, unexpected. I must admit to myself that the way he rolls his tongue, accentuating the constants is…also unexpected. However I cannot pinpoint an actual word that describes the way my stomach flips whenever he does rolls his constants, especially his r’s.

His performance for me was initiated in my room, of course that being said, we were both a bit high. Perhaps, it crossed my mind after we came down, he thought I would have forgotten about his talent if he sang to me while under the influence to evade any sort of embarrassment. But being Gerard, he is not too inclined for humbleness, so one can never tell.

Despite being under the influence of the sacred plant, I can clearly etch every staccato, syllable, allegro and crescendo of every note that passed his lips, into my mind. All the music pouring from his lips engulfed me in pure musical pleasure.

His voice sounded so close and melancholy. So unlike Gerard who is usually so far from my comprehension, always full of his own jokes. I felt like he let me in just a bit, and in return I felt some understanding thread between us, pulling me closer to him.

And that’s when something inside me popped a bit. Perhaps a new idea or stronger feeling. Because I lunged from my bed, grabbing on to his shoulders, his eyes shining with something I am too ineloquent to describe, and hugged him. A very gripping hug that overwhelmed me with a possessive sensation. My hands curled around the nape of his neck, arms pressed hard against his shoulders, feeling every taut muscle that twitched beneath his shirt. With my nose near his hair and my ear next to his, like a dying man, greedy to take his last lunge of air before passing, I inhaled his sweetly scent, and I heard and felt the hitch of his breath.

However, I had to pull back, despite my aching desire to remain at his side, stealing his warmth, feeling his muscles, synchronizing our breathing. Because if I held to on too long, something else would have happened, and that would have been too weird, for I am not mature enough to face anything beyond the realms of my normalcies.

So I pulled back, my hands still gripping on to his shoulders. We stared into each other, two pairs of eyes reflecting one another in a dance of understanding. The minutes passed and each second went uncalculated by me, for my mind had frozen in activity. Only it was not frozen, more like it had taken a slumber under the warmth coming from his eyes.

And then the high came down. And as if we have both woken from the dead, we lurched backwards, I coughing into my hands in order to prevent him from seeing the heating in my cheeks, and him giggling with something keen to embarrassment.

Even now, sitting in this cold, dull, English classroom, I can feel my cheeks return to the burning of that day in my room.

After school, Gerard and I walked towards my home in order to rehearse for our performance. We had both agreed to compose our own song in an act of rebellion against my insufferable teacher. The song consists of three bridges, two crescendos, four main riffs –each pair different- and two guitar solos. I, very much hating the song I was supposed to perform, have whole heartedly put my devotion into creating, perhaps the most offensive material one can make. Of course, this doesn’t necessarily mean it consists of curse words, because it doesn’t, I once heard a man say that the worst vulgarity is found within the common words we speak, hidden within the structure of our vocabulary, however I do not recall who that man was.

Ray has finally met the elusive Gerard –as he so likes to title him- and has in fact helped us compose the song. Much to my gratification, his enthusiasm over Gerard’s voice, and Gerard himself, has eradicated the suspicion he once harbored for him.

As we sit on my bed rehearsing, Gerard continues to glance at me. My hands begin to perspire and my fingers are starting to slip from the chords. He looks worriedly at me biting his lip, as I struggle with my solo. The g string on my guitar, gives a horrendous, metallic shrill after my pick had scraped it the wrong way. The clang resonates and I quit playing, with a huff of frustration I put my guitar on my bed. I fling myself backwards, the bed springs squeaking. I comb my hair back in exasperation, droplets of sweat clinging to my soaked hands.

Gerard continues to stare, for once looking out of his depth. His bushy eyebrows furrow, and his bottom lip begins reddening beneath the force of his sharp teeth. Finally, as if experiencing an epiphany, his head jolts. He pulls something out of his jacket and hands me a pink mushy apple. This has been apple number 52, not that I’ve been keeping an actual record.

His pale hand brushes over my shoulder, then begins to travel towards my head. Gerard leans over my face, his fingers tangling with the tendrils of my hair.

“I know you’re nervous,” He starts, biting his lip, “I really didn’t see you as the timid type, shying away from the limelight, but now I see the appeal. It’s okay though. I’ve been nervous of many things. However the stage has never made me anxious.” His hand continues to play with my hair, we gaze into each other’s eyes, I, clutching the apple he gave me.

“Then what have you shied away from?” I ask, my voice soft, awed. He bites his lip, brows furrowing in discomfort, “Something, I’m not too comfortable to talk about. Something…. Not good.” I nod my head, not expecting anything further. “But,” He continues, “Right now I’m shying away from giving you any answers. So that’s something right?” He smiles, but his smile is a bit diluted. My lips mirror his.

“I’ll get over it, once I’m the stage the adrenalin will kick in, make everything better.” I state. I slowly get up, allowing him to back away and take a bite out of the apple. Never in my life have I ever consumed as many apples as I have been being around Gerard.

“It’s called a beauty of bath apple by the way.” He states.

“It’s hardly beautiful, what a strange name.” I say, mostly talking to myself. “Anyways, let’s continue rehearsing.”

I pick up my guitar and we begin to perform for each other.

Upon the stage, Gerard and I greeted the people. We played our song, and astounded all of them.

Like I said, the adrenalin did make everything better. I smiled at the sea of strangers, I glanced at Gerard and we shared grins. I danced with my guitar, with Gerard. It was as if all the nervous energy that I had possessed before had never inhabited my state of being. I felt alive, in a weird sense as if I were a celestial being reigning gracefully over a world of adoring mortals. I felt like flying, like for once I belonged. I felt as if my mind had finally fled from the enslavement of my body. An astral projection floating over the crowd, detached, lucid and living.

But in the detachment, a strange chill froze my flying for a few seconds that in my lucid state felt like hours. Because I saw her, that girl from that party, smiling admiringly at Gerard. Her body poised patiently amongst the people, as if waiting.

But that moment only lasted a second, as the ending of our song was erupted by the cheers of the people. We smiled at them, bidding farewells and leaving the stage.

Backstage I was greeted by a hug from my best friend his enthusiasm a bit too far due to the chill that lingered on my spine. I smiled faintly at him. A bit dazed, it took me a while to alert myself to what happened afterwards.

Because then Gerard hugged me, and said into my ear, “I have to go somewhere really quick, sorry. Don’t forget I’m taking you out on your birthday Frankie boy.” And in a rush, he dashed over to the exit.

Afterwards, still feeling a bit numb, a cacophony of yells ascended my way. “FRANK IERO!!!” Oh, it was my name. I sobered up upon looking at the figure stomping towards my left. It was Mr. Perez, and he looked an awful lot like Satan.

“YOU,” He fumed, “You insolent little child how dare you!!! How dare you ruin my festival with your wretched music!!!!I should have never---“His voice faded out from my ears, I blocked him, I glanced over at Ray and by the sight of his grimace I can tell that Satan was saying very terrible things

. I didn’t hear the rest of what he said, why should I? All useless, tripe. Besides I had other things on my mind. Did Gerard see her? Is he with her right now? Is that why he left in a rush? These stream of questions flooded my mind.

I was abruptly snapped from my thoughts. “Strike two Frank Iero!!!” Mr. Perez finished with an air of finality and stomped off. But his words remained. They struck me like a whip, harsh and fast, the sound of the strike echoing, making me jump out from my hazed mind.

Well, fuck. An emptiness pooled within my stomach. I really need to get high now.


End file.
